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we've had to pay the water tax for old Bill Soames； the rent last
week don't amount to much； while there's the month's bill for the
restaurant and that blank druggist's account for lotions and
medicines to come out of it。 It strikes me we're pretty near
touching bottom。 I've everything I want here； but； by God； sir； if
I find YOU skimping yourself or lying to me or borrowing money〃
〃Yes； Marse Harry； but the Widder Molloy done gone and paid up dis
afernoon。 I'll bring de books and money to prove it；〃 and he
hurriedly reentered the sitting…room。
Then with trembling hands he emptied his pockets on the table；
including Paul's gift and the fees he had just received； and
opening a desk…drawer took from it a striped cotton handkerchief；
such as negro women wear on their heads； containing a small
quantity of silver tied up in a hard knot； and a boy's purse。 This
he emptied on the table with his own money。
They were the only rents of Colonel Henry Pendleton！ They were
contributed by 〃George Washington Thomson；〃 his wife； otherwise
known as 〃Aunt Dinah；〃 washerwoman； and 〃Scipio Thomson；〃 their
son； aged fourteen； bootblack。 It did not amount to much。 But in
that happy moisture that dimmed the old man's eyes； God knows it
looked large enough。
CHAPTER III。
Although the rays of an unclouded sun were hot in the Santa Clara
roads and byways； and the dry； bleached dust had become an
impalpable powder； the perspiring and parched pedestrian who rashly
sought relief in the shade of the wayside oak was speedily chilled
to the bone by the northwest trade…winds that on those August
afternoons swept through the defiles of the Coast Range； and even
penetrated the pastoral valley of San Jose。 The anomaly of straw
hats and overcoats with the occupants of buggies and station wagons
was thus accounted for； and even in the sheltered garden of 〃El
Rosario〃 two young girls in light summer dresses had thrown wraps
over their shoulders as they lounged down a broad rose…alley at
right angles with the deep； long veranda of the casa。 Yet； in
spite of the chill； the old Spanish house and gardens presented a
luxurious； almost tropical； picture from the roadside。 Banks；
beds； and bowers of roses lent their name and color to the grounds；
tree…like clusters of hanging fuchsias； mound…like masses of
variegated verbena； and tangled thickets of ceanothus and spreading
heliotrope were set in boundaries of venerable olive； fig； and pear
trees。 The old house itself； a picturesque relief to the glaring
newness of the painted villas along the road； had been tastefully
modified to suit the needs and habits of a later civilization； the
galleries of the inner courtyard； or patio； had been transferred to
the outside walls in the form of deep verandas； while the old adobe
walls themselves were hidden beneath flowing Cape jessamine or
bestarred passion vines； and topped by roofs of cylindrical red
tiles。
〃Miss Yerba！〃 said a dry； masculine voice from the veranda。
The taller young girl started； and drew herself suddenly behind a
large Castilian rose…tree； dragging her companion with her； and
putting her finger imperatively upon a pretty but somewhat
passionate mouth。 The other girl checked a laugh； and remained
watching her friend's wickedly leveled brows in amused surprise。
The call was repeated from the veranda。 After a moment's pause
there was the sound of retreating footsteps； and all was quiet
again。
〃Why； for goodness' sake； didn't you answer； Yerba？〃 asked the
shorter girl。
〃Oh； I hate him！〃 responded Yerba。 〃He only wanted to bore me with
his stupid； formal； sham…parental talk。 Because he's my official
guardian he thinks it necessary to assume this manner towards me
when we meet； and treats me as if I were something between his
stepdaughter and an almshouse orphan or a police board。 It's
perfectly ridiculous； for it's only put on while he is in office；
and he knows it； and I know it； and I'm tired of making believe。
Why； my dear； they change every election； I've had seven of them；
all more or less of this kind； since I can remember。〃
〃But I thought there were two others； dear； that were not
official；〃 said her companion； coaxingly。
Yerba sighed。 〃No； there was another； who was president of a bank；
but that was also to be official if he died。 I used to like him；
he seemed to be the only gentleman among them； but it appears that
he is dreadfully improper； shoots people now and then for nothing
at all； and burst up his bankand； of course； he's impossible；
and； as there's no more bank； when he dies there'll be no more
trustee。〃
〃And there's the third； you knowa stranger； who never appears？〃
suggested the younger girl。
〃And who do you suppose HE turns out to be？ Do you remember that
conceited little wretchthat 'Baby Senator；' I think they called
himwho was in the parlor of the Golden Gate the other morning
surrounded by his idiotic worshipers and toadies and ballot…box
stuffers？ Well； if you please； THAT'S Mr。 Paul Hathawaythe
Honorable Paul Hathaway； who washed his hands of me； my dear； at
the beginning！〃
〃But really； Yerba； I thought that he looked and acted〃
〃You thought of nothing at all； Milly；〃 returned Yerba； with
authority。 〃I tell you he's a mass of conceit。 What else can you
expect of a Mantoadied and fawned upon to that extent？ It made
me sick！ I could have just shaken them！〃
As if to emphasize her statement； she grasped one of the long
willowy branches of the enormous rose…bush where she stood； and
shook it lightly。 The action detached a few of the maturer
blossoms； and sent down a shower of faded pink petals on her dark
hair and yellow dress。 〃I can't bear conceit；〃 she added。
〃Oh； Yerba； just stand as you are！ I do wish the girls could see
you。 You make the LOVELIEST picture！〃
She certainly did look very pretty as she stood therea few leaves
lodged in her hair； clinging to her dress； and suggesting by
reflection the color that her delicate satin skin would have
resented in its own texture。 But she turned impatiently away
perhaps not before she had allowed this passing vision to impress
the mind of her devoted adherentand said； 〃Come along； or that
dreadful man will be out on the veranda again。〃
〃But； if you dislike him so； why did you accept the invitation to
meet him here at luncheon？〃 said the curious Milly。
〃I didn't accept； the Mother Superior did for me； because he's the
Mayor of San Francisco visiting your uncle； and she's always
anxious to placate the powers that be。 And I thought he might have
some information that I could get out of him。 And it was better
than being in the convent all day。 And I thought I could stand HIM
if you were here。〃
Milly gratefully accepted this doubtful proof of affection by
squeezing her companion's arm。 〃And you didn't get any
information； dear？〃
〃Of course not！ The idiot knows only the old tradition of his
officethat I was a mysterious Trust left in Mayor Hammersley's
hands。 He actually informed me that 'Buena' meant 'Good'； that it
was likely the name of the captain of some whaler； that put into
San Francisco in the early days； whose child I was； and that； if I
chose to call myself 'Miss Good；' he would allow it； and get a bill
passed in the Legislature to legalize it。 Think of it； my dear！
'Miss Good；' like one of Mrs。 Barbauld's stories； or a moral
governess in the 'Primary Reader。'〃
〃'Miss Good；'〃 repeated Milly； innocently。 〃Yes； you might put an
e at the endG…double…o…d…e。 There are Goodes in Philadelphia。
And then you won't have to sacrifice that sweet pretty 'Yerba；'
that's so stylish and musical； for you'd still be 'Yerba Good。'
But；〃 she added； as Yerba made an impatient gesture； 〃why do you
worry yourself about THAT？ You wouldn't keep your own name long；
whatever it was。 An heiress like you； dear；lovely and
accomplished；would have the best names as well as the best men in
America to choose from。〃
〃Now please don't repeat that idiot's words。 That's what HE says；
that's what they ALL say！〃 returned Yerba； pettishly。 〃One would
really think it was necessary for me to get married to become
anybody