Yet Helena was implacable in her determination that Doña Carlota should suffer to her full capability for the babbling that had brought this sudden cloud of tragedy into her own life. John Toberman, good friend, honest man, competent adviser, was dead as a direct result of Doña Carlota's great eagerness to win favor with Don Abrahan.
Doña Carlota was dependent on the charitable mercy of her people; she had no estate of her own. She had looked forward to a sunny room in Don Abrahan's patio for her age, when she had sent him word that her niece was hiding the American sailor on her ranch, from which betrayal all this outspreading trouble had grown.
Let her go now to the poor, and gather the harvest of her kind deeds. It would be a scant one, Helena knew. Even Doña Carlota could not recall one act out of all her years that was bearing interest to her credit among the poor.
So Doña Carlota went on to the house of Cecilia, her legs bending under her load of flesh and fright like candles in the summer heat.
Cecilia stood before her door, watching the activities in the courtyard, or as much as she could see of them, with eager eyes. Cecilia's house stood well away from the patron's mansion, as has been said, on account of the strong flavor of the goat pens, especially in rainy weather. She was responsible to the patron for the goats, although the labor of ranging them out to graze had come down to the nimbler feet of her daughter Liseta. It was all one
