Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1903-11-28
MARCIA'S FIND.
By Florence Belle Merrylees.

ments Of the valley and among the noun
tains for miles around were eagerly dis
cussing the coming festivity, and In the
little village of IncidaicaZar, where Marcia
lived. the girls and boys were already
planning ways and means to attend the
coming FIESTA
A Mexican 'baile" is dance which in
this primitive part of the country usually
takes place in the open all in front of the
adobe house OF the host or hostess. The
dancing floor consists of the ground trodden
fairly smooth by many feet, and in some
cases thickly sprinkled with millions of
tiny specks of chopped paper. some coiored
and some gold and silver. which whirl and
flutter about in little drifts and eddies as
they are famed by the skirts of the dane
ers. From posts planted in the ground
at the four corners of the dancing space
cords are strung, from which hang bright
paper lanterns. bobbng and swaying in the
breeze which is always stirring at night
In one corner, surrounded by most of its
friends, the band is stationed. 1t is hardly
what one would call a band here IN the
United States. but somehow, in spite of the
exceedingly queer-looking instruments and
the absolutely weird time they keep, l have
never in any country heard music which
held more Of the very spirit of dancing
than that played by these Mexican poems
Marcia, who was now thin, tall girl of
thirteen. exquisitely graceful her long
Glue-black hair hanging in braid almost
to the ground, and her large black eyes full
of fire and mischief was among the lucky
ones invited to the bale" Although the
prospect of going filed her heart with joy.
there was more than one thing to think
about. and she had often during the last
few days had an anxious little frown. which
was usually quite stranger to her serene.
gentle little face. Her firm friend and COM
rade Jose had assured her when she had
consulted him that her gown of scarlet
muslin was quite good enough for the oc-
caS1on; besides. as he said, what did
triffing thing like being obliged to wear an
old dress matter when her beautiful dane
ing would assure her all the partners she
wanted, and he had just heard from one
of the mine owners stable boys that
something quite out of the ordinary could
be expected in the way of refreshments.
Not only were there to be "pulque," sweet
corn cakes and almond paste. but rich
Spanish chocolate, all frothy and foamy;
wonderful cakes in layers, with pink and
white icing. and various other dishes cooked
by the mine owners Chinese, and pre-
sented by the English senior with his good
wishes. Jose wondered to himself how any
girl could allow small matter such as an
old dress to distress her in the face of SO
much pleasure Poor Marcia. being girl,
was painfully aware that the garment in
question had been faded by many a days
hot sun until the color was sadly gone. and
it streaked in many places.
The dress was also much better fitted to
the original size of it's owner when it was
new than to the tall slip of a girl who
looked sadly at 1t as she turned it slowly
about and tried to convince herself it did
not look very bad. She had very
serious doubts of its meeting in the back
at all, no matter how long she held her
breath and pulled and strained in honest
effort to make it close
The bale was only Il week away and
the problem of the dress was still unsolved.
jose, as he passed to and from the mine.
driving his little "burro' laden with wood
for tha llaI
CHEEKY remarks concerning the coming fete.
and Marcia, not wishing to cast any shad-
ow on his enthusiasm, tried on her part to
answer back just as cheerily, but her heart
was heavy. She began to wonder which of
two things it would be best to do to sprain
her ankle so that dancing would be out of
the question. or to don the forIorn old dress
once more and brave the looks of her more
fortunate friends.
The day was absolutely perfect. The sky
one cloudless expanse of deep blue the air
cool and so wonderfully clear and bracing
one felt capable of doing almost anything
and felt it was good to be alive. The suns
heat was tempered by faint breeze which
lightly played over the great drifts of
golden poppies growing almost up to the
doorway where Marcia stood looking out
over the valley. Before her stretched the
mountains she had learned to love so well.
the twelve miles which divided them from
the valley looking less than half that
distance in that clear atmosphere They
lowered UP and up against the sky dark
and lofty. with the more distant ranges
showing family purple In the distance.
There had been no rain in the land for
many days, and the arroyo beds showed
dry and sandy in the sun as they wound
in and out among the rushing maize fields
and gardens, on to where the rough stony
land began and the wild "musket' trees
dropped their spikey branches over the
dry bed Of the stream and millions of tiny
insects buzzed and darted about among the
loose stones.
Marcia loved every bit of the beautiful
scene she was so familiar with In her
eyes no other place could ever be as lovely
as this peaceful valley surrounded by the
calm sentinel mountains. She watched the
further side of the fields and the sunlight
striking the tower of the little white
church. making the gilt cross gleam like a
golden star high up against the deep sky
Where else could one find such flowers as
grew all around her the many-colored
dahlias, the wonderful "poinsetta" with its
great scarlet flowers. the brilliant masses
OF California peoples, their soft, gray
green foliage toning down the bright
yellow of the blossoms. Where else id
such graceful palm trees spread their fam
like leaves and the dainty ferns and MOSES
hide in the shade of the brown rocks with
the velvety purple wild thyme as a close
neighbor and the soft, fluffy balls of the
yellow 'musket' bushes bending down their
branches laden with their sWeet-scented
burden above them.
) gaze wandered away the
maize field and orchard which skirted the
roadway. to where one of the largest AR
royas wound its way zigzag across the
valley until it was lost in the deeper shade
or the canyon to the west. This arroyo
had always seemed SO deep and solitary
that Marcia had never felt tempted to ex-
plore its windings she had those of some
of the other smaller ones, but today she
couldn't have told why she felt a strong
desire to go and at closer range its
queer crooked turnings and high sandy
banks, dotted here and there with stumpy
palms and musket bushes. She wandered
slowly through the fields, and the rough.
uncultivated strip of land beyond, and
climbed down the arroyo bank at a place
where tiny steep 'burro' track led down
to the dry stream bed. She picked her way
among the. rocks and fine gravel that strewed
the sand stopping now and then to
try and catch fairy-like yellow butter
fly as it poised itself lightly on stone and
then futtered away out of her reach.
When 1t had escaped her for the fifth time
she gave 1t up with sigh and turned to
watch tiny lizard summing itself on a
fat rock, it's bright green and gold tfnts
fairly scintiliating in the rays of the sun
She had gone less than half a mile and
was still thinking of the coming .baiIe"
and the troublesome question of the dress
when she stopped for a moment to kick a