"She's sure got cause to be grateful to you." Hanson spoke sincerely.

"I wouldn't have known what else to do with a child," said Mrs. Gallito
simply. "I always saw them trained that way. But her Pop didn't stand
for it."

During this conversation Pearl and Flick had risen and, with Lolita
still on Flick's shoulder, had sauntered down through the garden.

Seeing this, Rudolf, with his customary philosophy, made the best of the
situation. "Well," with rather vague gallantry, "I don't see how he can
stay away from a home like this."

"It's the Spanish of him." This was Mrs. Gallito's explanation of all
the eccentricities in which her husband might indulge. "And," with
unwonted optimism, "maybe it's a blessing, too, 'cause he's awful queer.
And, anyway, he's what they call a man's man. Why, you might think he
lived all by himself up there in Colina; but he don't. He's got more old
Spaniards around"--she raised her eyes--"and they're the awfullest!
Cut-throats and pirates, I call 'em. They come up from the coast. And
it's funny, too," she exclaimed in a sort of querulous wonder, "because
Gallito's awful respectable himself."

"That is queer, isn't it?" His tone was politely interested, but his
errant glance strayed to where Pearl and Flick stood gazing over the
vast spaces of the desert, flooded with illimitable sunshine.

But Mrs. Gallito needed only a modicum of interest upon which to launch
her confidences. "Yes, he certainly is queer, and Pearl's like him in
lots of ways. Neither of them can stand anything holding them. They're