"And what made it hardest was Seth jeering at me. 'You can't shake
her that way,' he said. 'You saved her life--' 'I didn't,' I said
sharply; 'it was you.' 'But she thinks you did, which is the same
thing,' he came back at me. 'And now she belongs to you. Custom
of the country, as you ought to know.'"

"Heathenish," said Mrs. Jones, and though her steady gaze was set
upon the Tower of Jewels I knew she was making no reference to its
architecture.

"'She's come to do light housekeeping for you,' Seth grinned. I
let him rave, though afterwards I kept him throwing in the coal too
fast to work his mouth very much. Why, say, when I got to the spot
where I picked her up, and stopped the train for her to get off,
she just flopped down on her knees, got a hammerlock with her arms
around my knees, and cried all over my shoes. What was I to do?"

With no perceptible movement that I was aware of, Mrs. Jones
advertised her certitude of knowledge of what SHE would have done.

"And the moment we pulled into Quito, she did what she'd done
before--vanished. Sarah never believes me when I say how relieved
I felt to be quit of her. But it was not to be. I got to my 'dobe
house and managed a cracking fine dinner my cook had ready for me.
She was mostly Spiggoty and half Indian, and her name was Paloma.--
Now, Sarah, haven't I told you she was older'n a grandmother, and
looked more like a buzzard than a dove? Why, I couldn't bear to
eat with her around where I could look at her. But she did make
things comfortable, and she was some economical when it came to
marketing.