'Teresita,' she answered, with a pretty accent, as she scratched a
set of five grimy little toes to and fro in the dusty ground.

'Throw her a bit, papa,' whispered Bell; and, as he did so, Teresita
caught the piece of silver very deftly, and ran excitedly back to the
centre of the chattering group in front of the house.

'How intense everything is in California! Do you know what I mean,
mamma?' said Bell. 'The fruit is so immense, the canyons so deep,
the trees so big, the hills so high, the rain so wet, and the drought
so dry.'

'The fleas so many, the fleas so spry,' chanted Jack, who had
perceived that Bell was talking in rhyme without knowing it.
'California is just the place for you, Bell; it gives you a chance
for innumerable adjectives heaped one on the other.'

'I don't always heap up adjectives,' replied Bell, with dignity.
'When I wish to describe you, for instance, I simply say "that
hateful boy," and let it go at that.'

Jack retired to private life for a season.

'I'd like to paint a picture of Teresita,' said Margery, who had a
pretty talent for sketching, 'and call it The Summer Child, or some
such thing. I should think the famous old colour artists might have
loved to paint this gorgeous flame-tinted poppy.'

'Not poppy,--eschscholtzia,' corrected Jack, coming rapidly to the
surface again, after Bell's rebuke, and delivering himself of the