Quickly the shell-combs and earrings were sold, as well as Juli’s rosary, to their richest neighbor, and thus fifty pesos were added, but two hundred and fifty were still lacking.  The locket might be pawned, but Juli shook her head.  A neighbor suggested that the house be sold and Tandang Selo approved the idea, satisfied to return to the forest and cut firewood as of old, but Sister Bali observed that this could not be done because the owner was not present.

“The judge’s wife once sold me her tapis for a peso, but her husband said that the sale did not hold because it hadn’t received his approval. Aba! He took back the tapis and she hasn’t returned the peso yet, but I don’t pay her when she wins at panguingui, aba! In that way I’ve collected twelve cuartos, and for that alone I’m going to play with her.  I can’t bear to have people fail to pay what they owe me, aba!”

Another neighbor was going to ask Sister Bali why then did not she settle a little account with her, but the quick panguinguera suspected this and added at once:  “Do you know, Juli, what you can do?  Borrow two hundred and fifty pesos on the house, payable when the lawsuit is won.”

This seemed to be the best proposition, so they decided to act upon it that same day.  Sister Bali offered to accompany her, and together they visited the houses of all the rich folks in Tiani, but no one would accept the proposal.  The case, they said, was already lost, and to show favors to an enemy of the friars was to expose themselves to their vengeance.  At last a pious woman took pity on the girl and lent the money on condition that Juli should remain with her as a servant until the debt was paid.  Juli would not have so very much to do:  sew, pray, accompany her to mass, and fast for her now and then.  The girl accepted with tears in her eyes, received the money, and promised to enter her service on the following day, Christmas.

When the grandfather heard of that sale he fell to weeping like a child.  What, that granddaughter whom he had not allowed to walk in the sun lest her skin should be burned, Juli, she of the delicate fingers and rosy feet!  What, that girl, the prettiest in the village and perhaps in the whole town, before whose window many gallants had vainly passed the night playing and singing!  What, his only granddaughter, the sole joy of his fading eyes, she whom he had dreamed of seeing dressed in a long skirt, talking Spanish, and holding herself erect waving a painted fan like the daughters of the wealthy—­she to become a servant, to be scolded and reprimanded, to ruin her fingers, to sleep anywhere, to rise in any manner whatsoever!

So the old grandfather wept and talked of hanging or starving himself to death.  “If you go,” he declared, “I’m going back to the forest and will never set foot in the town.”

Juli soothed him by saying that it was necessary for her father to return, that the suit would be won, and they could then ransom her from her servitude.