"Why ?" she asked, half dreading his reply.
"Because," said the American, quietly, "you are old playmates; you are attached to each other." Juanita bit her lips.

"Why don't you read it yourself ?" she asked bluntly.
"Because I don't read other people's letters, and if it concerns me you'll tell me." "What if I don't ?" "Then the Father Superior will." "I believe you know Francisco's secret already," said the girl, boldly.
"Perhaps." "Then, Mother of God! Senor Crancho, what do you want ?" "I do not want to separate two such good friends as you and Francisco." "Perhaps you'd like to claim us both," said the girl, with a sneer that was not devoid of coquetry.
"I should be delighted." "Then here is your occasion, Senor, for here comes my adopted father, Don Juan, and your friend, Senor Br--r--own, the American alcalde." Two men appeared in the garden path below them.

The stiff, glazed, broad-brimmed black hat, surmounting a dark face of Quixotic gravity and romantic rectitude, indicated Don Juan Briones.

His companion, lazy, specious, and red-faced, was Senor Brown, the American alcalde.
"Well, I reckon we kin about call the thing fixed," said Senor Brown, with a large wave of the hand, suggesting a sweeping away of all trivial details.

"Ez I was saying to the Don yer, when two high-toned gents like you and him come together in a delicate matter of this kind, it ain't no hoss trade nor sharp practice.