Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1897-12-15
MARGHERITA.

uedu WIS sllldll anu SNdpe-
ly and her hair fine and silky, like the hair
that is supposed to be nourished only by
blue blood.
But there WAS no blue blood in Mar
gherita's veins. At least if there was it
had never been boosted of in her family.
The blood that tinged to red the olive Of
her cheek was warm, rich blood, such
blood as the honest Italian peasantry
women delight to keep pure
There was touch of yellow in her hair
that just saved it from being black as
night and gave to it little hints of gold
when the sunlight fell ON it here and
there. This she owed to the Saxon blood
of her mother; all the black was the IA
TIERS
How shapely her figurel And her hands
her hands were very small, Pedro had
often noticed, in spite of much hard work
In the gardens.
The gold in the hair Pedro had also
long ago noted and the fine set of tho
small head on the straight young neck.
Perhaps he noticed it all more partiou-
larly this bright summer afternoon than
he ever had before
There had come change into Marghe-
rita S life, and she was telling him about it.
Had a stranger CHANGED along the road
just then, past the little house with it's
great gardens that lay just outside the
town, he would have cast more than a
careless glance at the young couple who
stood at the gate.
The girl wore blue calico dress, cut
round at the neck and with sleeves that
fell loose to just below the elbow. Resting
her elbows on the top piece of the gate
and her chin in her palms. the sleeves fell
away and left her slim, rounded arms bare
almost to the shoulder.
The young man stood outside the closed
gate and gazed earnestly down into the
girls laughing face.
'He is as handsome as the girl is, !" the
passing stranger would have commented,
''just as dark and Enthusiastically child
of the same sunny cline"
Pedro's gardens were but bit Of a way
from those of Margherita's father. His
lettuce was always the crispest and green
est and his celery was famed the country
round. Margherita often helped him tie
1t up into lunches, and the celery went
away to market with merry girl bright
laughter to season it. Pedro's cart never
came back with burden.
"You will go, thenS'
And the young mans gaze Travelled
across the wide slope of Margherita' S ia
theirs green gardens until it rested on the
turretlike end of big house that just
peeped up over the brow of the hill and
between the tall trees
You will go up there and serve rather
than But, pshaw! What am saying2"
Nov hnv, into
his face, as If half expecting, half hoping,
that she would hear him say the something
she felt sure he would say some day. But
it was not said. In after years, when Pc
dro sat alone until far into the night, he
wished that it had been.
The girls expectant look changed quick
~ to one of willfulness.
"And why not9 Why should l not as
well serve there as here9"
up there there are fine ladies and--and
fine men. You are pretty You will lay
by your calico dress and put on fine clothes.
You'll forget about the gardens and how
to bunch celery and lettuce and"-
His dark cheeks were burning now, and
he half stretched his arms out over the
gate. To girl not used to the soft and
musical accent his words would have
meant much. but Margherita had known
him always-why, yes, since she was d
tiny child and he not much larger, when
he used to break the orange flowers from
the trees and shower them down over her
head in the garden of their poor but sunny
home across seas.
Some day-yes, maybe some day, when
Pedro paid off all the debt on his gardens
he would ask her to be his wife. But gold
was not as fast coming in America as once
when far away they had thought. But
why must she work in her fathers gar
dens and watt always waltz The only
glimpse she had of the big, gay town was
on market days, and now-now as a fine
lady's maid she would maybe see the town
every day and hear the music at the balls,
and OH
But the thought of it all made her head
dizzy.
Prettyp Yes, Pedro had said so. And
the fine men!
Here the spirit of coquetry seized her
But Pedro was to blame. She would never
have thought of the fine men had he not
said something about them. What was it
he had said about the fine men up at the
big house and herself? But Margherita
could not remember
There were only occasional glimpses to
be had Of Margherita now when Pedro
drove his cart Of fresh green things to the
back door Of the big house each morning.
Margherita's young mistress had long
been one of Pedro's patrons, and Mar
gherita would take care now to SEQ that
no other carts were SO literally patronized
as his.
The short blue calico frock and the gay
handkerchief that she used to wear over
her head were gone. Instead, the trim and
rounded figure was clad in dark blue
cloth gown, with white lace frills at neck
and sleeves. The dark hair was tossed up
in fluffy mass at the back of tho little
head, and tiny cap Of lace and ribbons
topped it all. In place Of the stout leather
shoes slim black satin slippers, with saucy
bows that called attention to them, were
ON her feet.
The first day that Pedro saw her like
this she had run down the steps all out Of
breath and flushed like child to show
herself to him. She had overturned
workbasket from the little table by the
window where she was sitting, putting
buttons on long pair Of gloves, when she
spied Pedro's cart coming over the hill.
The mistress had seen the flight of the lit
tie maid, and, guessing the meaning Of it,
stopped smilingly and picked up the scat
tered buttons.
Pedro looked at the girl and sighed.
Why do you look SO, you stupid? Don't
you want to see me In pretty clothesp
Well, maybe there are others who would