_New York City, May Twentieth._

Dearest Sally,

I'm distressed beyond words that your mother is still so wretched, and I see, of course, that you cannot leave her yet. But she must hurry and be well enough to let you come for the wedding,--middle or end of June.

A rather startling thing has happened. I have _a letter from Profesor_ Morales in Guadalajara, saying that--after all the tangling up of the red tape in the various revolutionary merry-go-rounds--things are in order at last, and little Dolores Tristeza starts me-ward as soon as a suitable traveling companion can be found. I must admit I'm a little aghast. Six months ago, I yearned to have her as a prop for my spinsterhood, but that Dark Age is about to be folded by. Of course I must stand by what I've said, and I want to, but I've answered _Senor_ Morales, explaining my approaching marriage and that I would send for Dolores in the early fall (perhaps Michael Daragh and I can go and get her!) and inclosing a fat check for her maintenance in the meantime.

But isn't it rather a comedy situation? A big little daughter suddenly bestowed upon a busy bride-elect! But she is an angel, and I'll adore having her, just as soon as I get used to the idea again.

Love and warmest wishes to your mother, and I'm sending her some books.

Devotedly,

JANE.

_New York City, May Twenty-seventh._

OLD DEAR,

So glad your mother is even a wee bit better! House and clothes are coming on famously but I'm rather rebellious at not having more of M.

D.'s time. My life work will be to drag him down from his pinnacle of selflessness! His chief concern just now is for his brilliant young dope fiend, and I really shouldn't begrudge M.D. to him, for if we hadn't had supper with him that night, and gone uptown in the subway, who knows if I'd ever have won my elusive swain? Randal is doing fairly well, as regards the drug, and making some corking sketches for our joint calendar, but he needs a world of cheering and chumminess and countenance.

But one would like a little less of him, a little more of one's lover.

Rather crossly,

J.

_Friday Morning._

Sally, dear, another letter has come from Mexico, and Dolores Tristeza is on her way! A highly proper geologist was returning to New York, and they dared not miss so excellent an opportunity of sending her.

And she'll be here day after to-morrow! I find myself rather gasping!

I must telephone the steamship office, and I'll close this later.

_Next Evening._

She will arrive on the _Pearl of Peru_ at about three P.M. to-morrow, and M.D. is going with me to meet her. He is dear about it all, and so am I, now that I've got my breath! I'm remembering what a dewy-eyed little dove of a thing she is. A few days of happy holiday for her, and then the mildest and gayest school I can find, one where they have no stuffy rules about not letting the pupils come home for week-ends.

The _Profesor_ explained that the _Hospicio_ had fallen on evil days during the revolution and the children are now cared for in private families. The three different households which had been sheltering Dolores had been obliged from various circ.u.mstances to give her up, and Senor Morales regretted the limitations of his own establishment.

Poor, pitiful little creature ... little "Sorrows and Sadness!" I must pledge myself to make her over into Joys and Gladness--_Alegrias y Felicidad_, if I remember my Spanish at all.

I'm ashamed of those mean moments at first when I didn't want her!

Penitently,

JANE.

P.S. I mean to have her call me Aunt Jane, which will be "_Tia Juana_." Isn't that charming? I really don't care to be called "Mother" just now by a twelve-year-old daughter. It's--a bit un-bridal.

_Sunday Night._

MY DEAR SARAH,

I wasn't up to writing you yesterday--I'm not really able to, now, but I'll try to tap you out a few feeble lines....

Oh, yes, she came. She's here! As some of my vaude-villains would say--I'll say she is!

M.D. and I met the steamer, the _Pearl of Peru_. Gentle, innocent-sounding name, isn't it? Sounds as if it might fitly convoy the dewy-eyed dove of my dreams.... It took a long time to dock and all the pa.s.sengers were at the rail. I looked in vain for my daughter-to-be, but I was particularly struck by a sad, broken-looking, elderly man whose eager eyes raked the wharf. He turned to ask a question of a large girl beside him, a creature clad in strident hues, furrily powdered, bearing a caged parrot in one hand, a shivering, hairless, Mexican dog under her arm, a cigarette in her mouth. Her gaze became riveted upon me. She emitted a piercing shriek of joy.

"_Madre virgen de mi alma!_"

Then, in order that all persons present on shipboard and on the wharf might have the benefit of her remark, she translated it--"Virgin Mother of my soul!"--and every one at once laid by all other preoccupations and gave himself whole-heartedly to looking and listening.

I have never seen a more radiant expression of joy and release than that which overspread the countenance of the geologist at sight of me, and even at that instant I began to understand his emotion. It seemed an hour before the gangplank was put down. Dolores Tristeza held the parrot up so that she might see me. "Behold the virgin mother of my soul!"

"Shut your ugly mouth!" shrieked the sweet bird, happily in Spanish.

"See, little mother mine," called Dolores, shaking the cage, "Santa Catalina, the parrot of a thousand pretty talents! And here"--she held up the hairless, squirming canine--"behold little Jose-Maria, joy of my orphan heart!"

I got as close to her as possible and besought her to moderate her transports until she had landed, and I was amazed and aghast and horrified at the size of her. "But, how you've grown, Dolores!" I stammered.

She chuckled gleefully. "They lied to thee at the _Hospicio, Madrecita_. I was not twelve years but past fourteen! They desired, naturally, to keep me with them in the juvenile department. Thus am I loved wherever I go! Dost thou not burn to fold me to thy breast?"

What I burned to do at that instant was to turn the _Pearl of Peru_ about and send her speeding swiftly back across the foam.

"So, now I am more than fourteen years and a half, large of my age, beautiful as all may see, of a wisdom to astonish you. In one year more, thou shalt find me a husband. Many _novios_ have I had already! Four serenades were made to me the night before I left Guadalajara, and on the boat--" She turned to the elderly gentleman with a complacent and pitying smile. "But"--she took account for the first time of Michael Daragh--"_quien es el hombron?_" (Who is the big man?) "_Tu novio?_"

I admitted that he was my betrothed.

"_No es tu esposo?_" she quivered with tentative rage.

I a.s.sured her that he was not yet my husband.

"Very well, then," she said in English, "we shall see. Only, I warn thee, if when thy children come, thou lovest them more than me, I will burn out their eyes with red-hot curling irons!" (Her English is heavily accented but perfectly--horribly--understandable.)

A merciful Providence let down the gangplank and she flung herself, her shrieking, cursing parrot, her shivering dog, into my arms. Santa Catalina's seed and water cups were emptied on my frock; Jose-Maria set his little dagger teeth in my sleeve; a fierce scent a.s.sailed my nostrils; a shower of powder frosted my shoulder.

I freed myself to speak to the geologist who seemed eager to be on his way. "I am very grateful to you," I said, mendaciously. "I hope it has not been too much trouble."

"I got her here, didn't I?" he said with an air of weary pride. He looked so haggard that my heart smote me. "_Senor_ Morales should not have burdened you. You look ill and----"