Aunt Jane's Nieces on the Ranch Part 7

"Thees woman I have not yet see," he announced, after due reflection.

"But, if she ees witch-woman, eet ees bad for Mees Jane to be near her."

"That is what _I_ say!" cried Inez eagerly. She spoke better English than the others. "She will bewitch my baby; she will make it sickly, so it will die!" And she wrung her hands in piteous misery.

The Mexicans exchanged frightened looks. Old Bella alone seemed unaffected.

"Mees Weld own her baby-not us," suggested Miguel's wife. "If Mees Weld theenk thees girl is safe nurse, what have we to say-eh?"

"I say she shall not kill my baby!" cried Inez fiercely. "That is what _I_ say, Bella. Before she do that, I kill thees Meeldred Travers."

Miguel examined the girl's face intently.

"You are fool, Inez," he a.s.serted. "It ees bad to keel anything-even thees New York witch-woman. Be compose an' keep watch. Nothing harm Mees Jane if you watch. Where are your folks, girl?"

"Live in San Diego," replied Inez, again sullen.

"Once I know your father. He ees good man, but drink too much. If you make quarrel about thees new nurse, you get sent home. Then you lose Mees Jane. So keep compose, an' watch. If you see anything wrong, come to me an' tell it. That ees best."

Inez glanced around the group defiantly, but all nodded approval of old Miguel's advice. She rose from the bench where she was seated, shrugged her shoulders disdainfully and walked away without a word.

CHAPTER VI-A DINNER WITH THE NEIGHBORS

Escondido, the nearest town and post office to El Cajon Ranch, is a quaint little place with a decided Mexican atmosphere. Those California inhabitants whom we call, for convenience, "Mexicans," are not all natives of Mexico, by any means. Most of them are a mixed breed derived from the early Spanish settlers and the native Indian tribes-both alike practically extinct in this locality-and have never stepped foot in Mexican territory, although the boundary line is not far distant.

Because the true Mexican is generally a similar admixture of Indian and Spaniard, it is customary to call these Californians by the same appellation. The early Spaniards left a strong impress upon this state, and even in the newly settled districts the Spanish architecture appropriately prevails, as typical of a semi-tropical country which owed its first civilizing influences to old Spain.

The houses of Escondido are a queer mingling of modern bungalows and antique adobe dwellings. Even the business street shows many adobe structures. A quiet, dreamy little town, with a comfortable hotel and excellent stores, it is much frequented by the wealthy ranchers in its neighborhood.

After stopping at the post office, Arthur drove down a little side street to a weather-beaten, unprepossessing building which bore the word "Restaurant" painted in dim white letters upon its one window. Here he halted the machine.

"Oh," said Beth, drawing a long breath. "Is this one of your little jokes, Arthur?"

"A joke? Didn't we come for luncheon, then?"

"We did, and I'm ravenous," said Patsy. "But you informed us that there is a good hotel here, on the main street."

"So there is," admitted Arthur; "but it's like all hotels. Now, this is-different. If you're hungry; if you want a treat-something out of the ordinary-just follow me."

Louise was laughing at their doubting expressions and this care-free levity led them to obey their host's injunction. Then the dingy door opened and out stepped a young fellow whom the girls decided must be either a cowboy or a clever imitation of one.

He seemed very young-a mere boy-for all his stout little form. He was bareheaded and a shock of light, tow-colored hair was in picturesque disarray. A blue flannel shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, a pair of drab corduroy trousers and rough shoes completed his attire. Pausing awkwardly in the doorway, he first flushed red and then advanced boldly to shake Arthur's hand.

"Why, Weldon, this is an unexpected pleasure," he exclaimed in a pleasant voice that belied his rude costume, for its tones were well modulated and cultured. "I've been trying to call you up for three days, but something is wrong with the line. How's baby?"

This last question was addressed to Louise, who shook the youth's hand cordially.

"Baby is thriving finely," she reported, and then introduced her friends to Mr. Rudolph Hahn, who, she explained, was one of their nearest neighbors.

"We almost crowd the Weldons," he said, "for our house is only five miles distant from theirs; so we've been getting quite chummy since they moved to El Cajon. Helen-that's my wife, you know-is an humble worshiper at the shrine of Miss Jane Weldon, as we all are, in fact."

"Your wife!" cried Patsy in surprise.

He laughed.

"You think I'm an infant, only fit to play with Jane," said he; "but I a.s.sure you I could vote, if I wanted to-which I don't. I think, sir,"

turning to Uncle John, "that my father knows you quite well."

"Why, surely you're not the son of Andy Hahn, the steel king?"

"I believe they do give him that royal t.i.tle; but Dad is only a monarch in finance, and when he visits my ranch he's as much a boy as his son."

"It scarcely seems possible," declared Mr. Merrick, eyeing the rough costume wonderingly but also with approval. "How long have you lived out here?"

"Six years, sir. I'm an old inhabitant. Weldon, here, has only been alive for six months."

"Alive?"

"Of course. One breathes, back east, but only lives in California."

During the laughter that followed this enthusiastic epigram Arthur ushered the party into the quaint Spanish restaurant. The room was clean and neat, despite the fact that the floor was strewn with sawdust and the tables covered with white oilcloth. An anxious-eyed, dapper little man with a foreign face and manner greeted them effusively and asked in broken English their commands.

Arthur ordered the specialties of the house. "These friends, Castro, are from the far East, and I've told them of your famous cuisine. Don't disappoint them."

"May I join you?" asked Rudolph Hahn. "I wish I'd brought Nell over to-day; she'd have been delighted with this meeting. But we didn't know you were coming. That confounded telephone doesn't reach you at all."

"I'm going over to the office to see about that telephone," said Arthur.

"I believe I'll do the errand while Castro is preparing his compounds.

I'm always uneasy when the telephone is out of order."

"You ought to be," said Rudolph, "with that blessed baby in the house.

It might save you thirty precious minutes in getting a doctor."

"Does your line work?" asked Louise.

"Yes; it seems to get all connections but yours. So I imagine something is wrong with your phone, or near the house."

"I'll have them send a repair man out at once," said Arthur, and departed for the telephone office, accompanied by his fellow rancher.

While they were gone Louise told them something of young Hahn's history.

He had eloped, at seventeen years of age, with his father's stenographer, a charming girl of eighteen who belonged to one of the best families in Washington. Old Hahn was at first furious and threatened to disinherit the boy, but when he found the young bride's family still more furious and preparing to annul the marriage on the grounds of the groom's youth, the great financier's mood changed and he whisked the pair off to California and bought for them a half-million-dollar ranch, where they had lived for six years a life of unalloyed bliss. Having no children of their own, the Hahns were devoted to little Jane and it was Rudolph who had given the baby the sobriquet of "Toodlums." At almost any time, night or day, the Hahn automobile was liable to arrive at El Cajon for a sight of the baby.

"Rudolph-we call him 'Dolph,' you know-has not a particle of business instinct," said Louise, "so he will never be able to take his father's place in the financial world. And he runs his ranch so extravagantly that it costs the pater a small fortune every year. Yet they are agreeable neighbors, artless and unconventional as children, and surely the great Hahn fortune won't suffer much through their inroads."

When Arthur returned he brought with him still another neighboring ranchman, an enormous individual fully six feet tall and broad in proportion, who fairly filled the doorway as he entered. This man was about thirty years of age, stern of feature and with s.h.a.ggy brows that overhung a pair of peaceful blue eyes which ought to have been set in the face of some child. This gave him a whimsical look that almost invariably evoked a smile when anyone observed him for the first time.

He walked with a vigorous, aggressive stride and handled his big body with consummate grace and ease. His bow, when Arthur introduced him, was that of an old world cavalier.