"So! You awaken the household with your songs," some one chided
Don Mario.

"Two cherubs from heaven," another exclaimed.

And a third cried, "A toast to Esteban's beautiful children."

But the father lurched forward, a frown upon his face. "What is
this, my dears?" he inquired, thickly. "Run back to your beds.
This is no place for you."

"We love Evangelina," piped the twins. "You must not let Don Pablo
have her--if you please."

"Evangelina?"

They nodded. "We love her. ... She plays with us every day. ... We
want her to stay here. ... She belongs to us."

Accustomed as they were to prompt compliance with their demands,
they spoke imperiously; but they had never seen a frown like this
upon their father's face, and at his refusal their voices grew
squeaky with excitement and uncertainty.

"Go to your rooms, my sweethearts," Don Esteban directed, finally.

"We want Evangelina. She belongs to us," they chorused,
stubbornly.