“Welcome, Senor Garcia,” she said, wondering that he did not kiss her cheek.  “Welcome to your own house.  It is all yours.  Whatever you choose is yours.”

“I rejoice in your good fortune,” sighed Garcia.

“It is our common fortune,” returned Clara, winding her arm in his and walking him up and down the veranda.

“May God give you long life to enjoy it,” prayed Garcia.

“And you also,” said Clara.

Coronado translated this conversation as fast as it was uttered to Mrs. Stanley.

“This is the golden age,” cried that enthusiastic woman.  “You Spaniards are the best people I ever saw.  Your men absolutely emulate women in unselfishness.”

“We would do it if it were possible,” bowed Coronado.

“You do it,” magnanimously insisted Aunt Maria, who felt that the baser sex ought to be encouraged.

“Senor Garcia, I ask a favor of you,” continued Clara.  “You must charge all the costs of the journey overland to me.”

“It is unjust,” replied the old man.  “Madre de Dios!  I can never permit it.”

“If you need the money now, I will request my guardians, the executors, to advance it,” persisted Clara, seeing that he refused with a faint heart.

“I might borrow it,” conceded Garcia.  “I shall have need of money presently.  That journey was a great cost—­a terribly bad speculation,” he went on, shaking his mottled, bluish head wofully.  “Not a piaster of profit.”

“We will see to that,” said Clara.  “And then, when I am of age—­but wait.”

She shook her rosy forefinger gayly, radiant with the joy of generosity, and added, “You shall see.  Wait!”

Coronado, in a rapid whisper, translated this conversation phrase by phrase to Mrs. Stanley, his object being to make Clara’s promises public and thus engage her to their fulfilment.

“Of course!” exclaimed the impulsive Aunt Maria, who was amazingly generous with other people’s money, and with her own when she had any to spare.  “Of course Clara ought to pay.  It is quite a different thing from giving up her rights.  Certainly she must pay.  That train did nothing but bring us two women.  I really believe Mr. Garcia sent it for that purpose alone.  Besides, the expense won’t be much, I suppose.”

“No,” said Coronado, and he spoke the exact truth; that is, supposing an honest balance.  The expedition proper had cost seven or eight thousand dollars, and about two thousand more had been sunk in assassination fees and other “extras.”  On the other hand, he had sold his wagons and beasts at the high prices of California, making a profit of two thousand dollars.  In short, even deducting all that Coronado meant to appropriate to himself, Garcia would obtain a small profit from the affair.