“Well, I could go faster, but I’m afraid of the traffic cop,” he explained. “That is not what I mean.” A sudden scream rang out from the sidewalk, and Maria clutched his arm. He pulled on the brake and looked over. “Maria!” someone was yelling, very stridently. There was a large crowd on the pavement, made of children and a woman. No, there was a little man too, standing behind the woman and pulling feebly at her dress. She was making all the noise, and oddly enough she seemed to be angry at him, at Blake. He blinked and looked at her again. As he stared, terrified, she came over to the car and jerked Maria out by the arm. She shrieked at him in Spanish, then translated in a louder tone than ever. “But Mamma....” said Maria, and was forced to stop while Mamma screamed. “Mamma,” she wailed at last, “it was all right! It was all right! It was all right!” The little man approached and tried again to soothe Mamma. She swept him aside and cried to Blake, “You have taken my little girl riding! She is only fifteen! I will tell the police. I will have you put in jail. I will——” “It was all right, Mamma. I tell you we were gone only ten minutes. It was all right.” Maria turned to Blake and added softly, “Go away, quick!” “Her father will kill you,” said Mamma loudly. “He will kill you.” She turned and seized the little man by the arm. Maria stamped her heel in the dust. “Go _away_,” she repeated. Blake went. CHAPTER THIRTEEN The unexpected boon of a full afternoon holiday during Fiesta left Gin somewhat embarrassed. She had nothing to do. The afternoon could have been spent sleeping, for she had had little sleep the night before, what with dancing in the streets around a bonfire; but she was too excited to feel sleepy. Time for sleep when Santa Fé had stopped playing and the town had taken off its costume and gaiety; plenty of time for sleep when the carpenters would begin to tear down the platform in the corner of the plaza, and the crepe paper ribbons would hang stretched and faded from the trees. Now the platform was gay with flags and strewn with confetti; last night had been a tango contest before the bonfire-dance, and they were to use it again today for impromptu theatricals—Spanish songs and Indian dances. All the shops were closed today; all the little shopgirls, dressed in skimpy shawls and old family combs, filled the streets to watch the parade. It was Pasatiempo, the day of the Pageant.