Make an inference about Abuelita’s motivation for “telling on” the narrator. What does this tell you about Abuelita?

The Whistle by Anne Estevis

My paternal grandmother Carmen was a tiny woman, not even five feet tall. She came to live with us because she said she needed to help my mother with the heavy load of raising a family. Having my grandmother around was usually pleasant; however, I remember a time when I wished she would find another family to care for. It was during the late autumn when I was fourteen years old. My parents had gone to San Antonio because my mother’s father was very ill. Before leaving, Mamà said to my abuela, “Please take care of Chatita and the boys while I am gone.”Then Mamà turned around and quietly said to my brothers and me, “Children, please take care of your grandmother.”For several days we all took good care of one another. Then, one Saturday, the third day of my parents’ absence, a cool front blew in a short while after we had eaten our noon meal. It wasn’t terribly cold, just a little nippy.My grandmother took note of the pleasant weather and remarked, “What a nice day it is! I think I will clean the storage shed.” She retied her sagging apron, put on her sweater, and marched directly out to the shed.While my grandmother toiled in the shed, I went about my Saturday chores as usual: washing the bedding, cleaning out the ice box, feeding the chickens, cleaning the lantern chimneys, and polishing my only pair of shoes. My brothers Keno and Chuy had been instructed by our father to prepare the fields for winter vegetable planting, so I was alone in the house. I liked it this way because I could do my work without interruption and get finished sooner.In the late afternoon I took some vegetable peelings out to the chickens and noticed that the sky was cloudy and the wind was blowing harder than it had earlier. The day was turning cold. I glanced toward the storage shed and wondered how much longer my abuela would be working. I faintly heard what sounded like a goat bleating, so I looked around. Seeing nothing, I hurried back into the house to finish my chores. I especially wanted to get the lanterns put back together before dark.Later I went out to get some firewood and while picking up small pieces of kindling from near the woodpile I heard again what I thought was a bleating goat. Still, I couldn’t see the animal. Perhaps Keno or Chuy had brought home a kid to slaughter. They did that occasionally. We all enjoyed the savory meat of cabrito; I was beginning to feel hungry just thinking about it. I thought I should look for the animal, but decided to get the fire in the stove going first because I could see Chuy coming toward the house on the tractor. Keno was already at the tractor shed, and the boys usually wanted coffee as soon as they got to the house.The house quickly warmed from the fire in the cookstove. I was just putting on the pot for coffee when my brother stomped into the kitchen.“It’s really getting cold out there!” said Chuy as he hovered over the big stove.“Is the coffee ready, Chatita?” Keno asked.I shook my head. “What about the goat? Are you going to butcher it?”Neither answered. Chuy stopped warming his hands and turned away from the stove to look at me. Keno continued washing up in the enamel wash pan.“I said, are you going to butcher the goat?” “What goat are you talking about?” responded Keno.“We don't have any goats,” said Chuy.I gasped and said, “Oh, my goodness! Come with me! Hurry!” I bounded out the kitchen door with my brothers behind me.As we approached the storage shed I could see that the outside latch hook on the door was in place. I flipped the hook up and flung open the door. There, sitting on the floor, wrapped up in burlap bags like a mummy, was a cold and shivering grandmother. She tried to talk, but her voice was almost gone.My brother helped the tiny woman to her feet and Keno carried her into the house as quickly as he could. All the way she was croaking like a frog, but I’m sure I discerned the words “¡Huercos desgraciados!” repeated over and over. This meant that we were wretched brats, or maybe worse.My brothers placed her in the chair nearest the kitchen stove while I fetched a soft woolen blanket to wrap her in. Chuy poured a cup of coffee and set it before her. Then we all sat down around the table staring at our obviously infuriated grandmother.“What unfortunate children you are. You have no brains!” she said in a raspy voice. Her entire body was shivering. “You left me to die out there!” She shook her fist at each one of us and then looked squarely at me. “You, Telésfora. You must be deaf!” she shook a crooked index finger at me.I knew she was very angry with me because she used my real name.“I called and called for you. The wind blew the door shut and it locked. All afternoon I yelled, but you didn’t come. I nearly froze to death!” She scowled and slowly turned her head away from me.“But I didn’t hear you,” I answered. “I’m sorry. Please, Abuelita. I’m truly sorry!”How could I have confused my grandmother’s voice with that of a bleating goat? I felt terribly guilty and ashamed. I knew that the shed door was prone to latch by itself if it was slammed. That’s why a wooden stake for propping the door open was usually kept nearby. But this time the stake had not been used, and now my grandmother was shaking and shivering and glaring at me.“Just you wait, Telésfora. Just you wait until your father gets home. I’ll have him punish you,” she said and her bottom lip quivered and her nostrils flared.My parents came home in a few days and of course the first thing that occurred was that Aubelita told her story to my father.“Son, Telésfora left me locked in the storage shed all afternoon on Saturday. I called and called for her, but she declares she didn’t hear me. She says she heard a goat bleating. Can you imagine that I could possibly sound like a goat?” my grandmother said.My father was very concerned, of course. I admitted to him that, indeed, I had mistakenly thought I heard a goat and that I was terribly sorry that I hadn't checked on Abuelita as I should have. He scolded me severely. But this wasn’t enough punishment, according to my grandmother, so she decided to penalize me herself by refusing to speak to me. This made me very sad, and it seemed to affect all of us. A sense of sorrow and discomfort permeated our family.Two weeks later I asked to go with my father to the big yellow store in town. While Papa made his purchases, I bought a silver whistle and a long piece of blue satin ribbon. I threaded the ribbon through the tig on the whistle and tied the ends of the ribbon together.That evening, I placed the whistle in a little box and wrapped it in some colored paper. After supper, I approached my grandmother.“This is for you, Abuelita. I’m terribly sorry about what happened to you in the shed. I hope you can forgive me.”My grandmother looked at me and said nothing. Then she took the box and opened it. She pulled the whistle out by its ribbon.“Well, Telésfora, whatever is this for?” she said, keeping her eyes on the whistle.“It’s to wear around your neck when you are outside. If you need me, just blow the whistle and I’ll come to you,” I said.“And how can I be sure you’ll hear this little whistle? You couldn’t even hear me yelling at you!” But Abuela put it around her neck anyway.The next evening, while I was feeding the chickens, I heard a faint whistle. I stopped what I was doing and stood very still. Then I heard the whistle more distinctly. Yes! It was definitely coming from inside the storage shed. I rushed to the shed and found the door latched. That surprised me because the wind wasn’t blowing at all. There was no way that the door could have slammed shut by itself. Something seemed really strange about this, and I was suspicious. I unlatched the door and opened it. There stood my grandmother with the whistle in her mouth. She quickly removed it and said, “I think your papà needs to do something about that crazy door latch. Don’t you think so, Chatita?”She hurried out of the shed and we started toward the house. I could see that she was smiling, and I think I even heard her chuckling.