than ten. Pingo said no, there weren’t that many. So we bet. There were nine. She won the honey. Country honey, the real stuff. This chit is smarter than she looks, let me tell you!”
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Alvorada’s garrulousness had not been stemmed by his adversities. All he needed was a little encouragement and he’d prattle away like any city gossip.
I explained the business that had brought me to his place. He frowned and, stroking his chin, reflected for a moment. Then:
“To tell the truth, I’m not worth a
thing now. Ever since I had the pest
I feel all broken up inside. I can’t
afford to hire more help, and it takes
more than talk to manage the men in
the fields. Do you remember that con-
tract last year? Well, I lost on that.
That rascal of a Mina broke one of my
axes and stole a scythe. Since that
day I don’t work for strangers. If I
stay in this forsaken place it’s only for
the girl’s sake. Otherwise I’d throw
it all aside and go off to the mountains
and live like an animal. It’s Pingo
who still gives me a bit of courage
. . .” he wound up tenderly.
The old woman sat down beside the window and opening a sewing basket, settled her spectacles on the end of her nose and began to sew.
I drew near, admiringly.
“To think of your still sewing at seventy!”
