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If he don't care for it； put it on the sideboard。〃
〃Yes； sah； but as yo' didn't like it yo'self； Marse Harry； and de wine
was de most 'xpensive quality ob Glencoe〃
〃Dn the expense！〃 He paused； and gazed searchingly at his old
retainer。
〃George；〃 he said suddenly； yet in a gentle voice； 〃don't lie to me； or〃
in a still kinder voice〃I'll flog the black skin off you！ Listen to me。
HAVE you got any money left？〃
〃'Deed； sah； dere IS；〃 said the negro earnestly。 〃I'll jist fetch it wid de
accounts。〃
〃Hold on！ I've been thinking； lying here； that if the Widow Molloy
can't pay because she sold out； and that tobacconist is ruined； and 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。
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A WARD OF THE GOLDEN GATE
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
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A WARD OF THE GOLDEN GATE
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 Ye