“It wouldn’t make a particle of difference to him. Old Pedro has no special belief; he told me so. Lolita’s happiness has always been, and will always be, his first consideration. He has many American friends, and is not the bigoted old man you would think. Pedro is really a very superior person, if he is only a greaser. If you knew Lolita as well as I do you would see what a lovable girl she is and would be glad to welcome her as a sister.” “Perhaps you would like to have had her for your sister,” said Laura, who had always been a little jealous of Alison’s love for Lolita. “If I had another brother I shouldn’t in the least mind, but as it is, I am perfectly well satisfied with John’s choice,” returned Alison, which oil-upon-the-waters speech caused Laura a pang of repentance after her tart remark. “Come,” she said, “use your arguments with mother. I confess you do make the matter seem less dreadful.” And the two went to the house, where Mrs. Van Dorn was in close converse with Christine. She held out her hand to Alison. “I came over to escape a sudden and dreadful fit of cleaning which has possessed our old Hitty,” she explained. “She cannot be made to endure a systematic weekly scrubbing of the floors, but once in a while she undertakes the whole place, souses and swashes and flings water all over the rooms and ends by lifting up a board and sweeping all the overflow into the cavity. She persistently refuses to get down on her hands and knees to scrub, as my servants at home used to do.” Alison laughed. “Oh, we have become quite used to that method. You see, the houses at home are not built on piles as these are down here. Consider how much easier it is to lift a board, which is always left loose for that purpose, and to swash the water down on the ground where it will run off, instead of laboriously carrying it outside and emptying it.” “I must confess the plan has the advantage of saving muscle,” said Mrs. Van Dorn, “but I cannot get used to thinking it as clean a process as ours. Come here, dear, and sit down. Christine and I have been talking over a matter much more serious to me than house-cleaning. I want you to assure me that this is but a youthful madness of Blythe’s and that I really am to welcome to my home a daughter much more to my taste than a wretched little Mexican.” “But my dear Mrs. Van Dorn, if you mean Lolita, she is not the wretched little Mexican you think. I assure you she is of good Spanish stock, and except for the prejudice against Mexicans, which Texans hold, I don’t see why she shouldn’t be as acceptable as any other girl. Have you met her? Have you talked to her? She is not uneducated and has the sweetest manners.” “I have seen her, but I have held no conversation with her.” “Don’t you think her very beautiful?”