They sat in silence for a few moments, Hanson giving Mrs. Gallito an opportunity to recover her self-control, while he devoted his attention to Lolita, who had sidled up to him and was gazing at him evilly, ready to nip him malevolently should he attempt the familiarity of scratching her head.

Mrs. Gallito, alive to the courtesies of the occasion, had succeeded in choking back her sobs, and now she endeavored to turn the conversation into less personal channels.  “Bob Flick got back yesterday.”

“Where’s he been traveling?” asked the manager easily.  “He can’t have gone so very far, hasn’t been gone long enough.”

Mrs. Gallito leaned forward carefully.  “He’s been to Colina and, Mr. Hanson, I think his trip had something to do with you.  Him and Gallito talked late last night.  I tried my best to hear what they were saying,” naively, “but I couldn’t for a long while, and then Gallito said out loud:  ‘Who’s going to tell her, you or me?’

“And Bob kind of waited a minute and then he said:  ’Me.  You’d only stir her up and make her obstinate.  But, God!’ he said, sighing awful heavy, ‘I wish I didn’t have to.’”

“I’ll bet he does,” muttered Hanson, and throwing back his head laughed aloud.

She looked at him doubtfully, as if surprised at his manner of receiving her information.  “Is it funny?” she asked.

“Not for Bob,” still vindictively amused.

“I suppose something’s gone wrong with her contract with Sweeney, and he can hold her to it, or else have the law on her,” ventured Mrs. Gallito.  “That’s all I can think of to stir them up so.”

“I guess that must be it,” agreed Hanson.  “Eh, Lolita?”

“Here comes Gallito now.”  She leaned forward suddenly, shielding her eyes with her hand.  “Yes, it’s him, sure.  Why, I thought he’d gone to the mines and wouldn’t be back to-day.”

Gallito was riding slowly toward the house, his head bent, his frowning gaze fixed before him.  Nevertheless, he had seen his wife’s guest, and, after taking his horse back to the stable, he made his appearance on the porch.  He shook hands with Hanson with his usual punctilious courtesy, and then, turning to Mrs. Gallito, remarked without ceremony: 

“Mr. Hanson and I have business matters to discuss and you have duties within; but first bring the small table, the cognac and some glasses.”

His wife wasted no time in doing his bidding, setting forth the articles required with a timid and practiced celerity.  But even after the brandy had been tasted and praised by Hanson, and his appreciation of it accepted with a grave Spanish bow by Gallito, the latter had made no move to open the conversation, but had insisted upon his guest trying his cigarettes and giving an opinion upon their merits.

Again Hanson was complaisant, extolling them as worthy to accompany the cognac, and after that a silence fell between them.  Gallito sat puffing his cigarette, watching with half closed eyes the smoke wreaths curl upward, while Hanson waited patiently, smoking his cigarette in turn with an admirable show of indifference.