that will carry Don Geronimo and me away. Perhaps your heart will be kinder toward me when I am gone."
Borromeo turned to her slowly, a look of consternation spreading in his face. He began wiping his hands on his leather apron as if making them clean to lay hold of and detain her.
"You are not leaving San Fernando, then, doña?" he said, gently, regretfully, as if he took the blame for her going, and entreated her to remain.
"In two or three weeks, Borromeo. They will send us word when the ship returns to San Pedro."
"But you do not want to go, your heart is sad already. There is plenty of room in California. Why will you go against your heart?"
"Let us not talk of it today, Borromeo. I must go along to my kitchen, I must see if the girls are making the dinner ready. We're going to have turnips and beef, Borromeo. You will come in?"
"Trust me, doña, when I smell the steam of dinner and hear the bell. So, you are going away?"
"It is arranged, Borromeo."
"Then I will tell you what I am making. It is plow, my wedding gift to Juan."
"It is a magnificent gift, Borromeo, something made by your own hands. Juan will value it above a silver plow, I am sure."
"I feared it would not be in time, there has been so much to do. Juan would have helped me, not knowing it was for him. But it is ready to be
