"Thou little brat! Dost thou think that I am
one to let my daughter marry before she can hem? Thank God we have more
sense than our mothers! No child of mine shall marry at fifteen. Now
listen--thou shalt be locked in a dark room if I am kept awake again
by that hobo serenading at thy window. To-morrow, when thou goest to
church, take care that thou throwest him no glance. Dios de mi alma!
I am worn out! Three nights have I been awakened by that _tw-a-n-g,
tw-a-n-g."_
"You need not be afraid," said her daughter, digging her little heel
into the floor. "I shall not fall in love. I have no faith in men."
Her mother laughed outright in spite of her anger.
"Indeed, my Eulogia! Thou art very wise. And why, pray, hast thou no
faith in men?"
Eulogia tossed the soft black braid from her shoulder, and fixed her
keen roguish eyes on the old lady's face.
"Because I have read all the novels of the Senor Dumas, and I well know
all those men he makes. And they never speak the truth to women; always
they are selfish, and think only of their own pleasure.
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