RUBIO Y MORENA
and placed it carefully back in its former position on the flat bosom.
He noticed also that the odor of sickness was gone, or possibly
lost in the odor of burning wax, for a great many candles had been
brought into the room and set in ruby glass cups on the window
ledges. The blinds had been lowered against the meridian glare of
the flat desert country, but the glare filtered through pin-point per–
forations in the old fabric so that each blind was like a square of
green sky with stars shining in it. The mourners assembled there
were mostly neighbors' children, the smallest ones naked, the larger
dressed in grey rags. One little girl was holding a home-made doll,
roughly cut out of wood and painted into .a grotesque semblance
of human infancy. Coarse black hair had been attached to the head.
It seemed somehow like an effigy of the dead girl. Unable to look
upon the actual face and its now intolerable mystery, Karnrowski
stole to the side of the half-naked child and gently and timidly thrust
his hand toward the doll. He touched the coarse black hair of the
doll with a finger. The child complained faintly and hugged the doll
closer to her. Karnrowski began to tremble. He felt that
his
hand
must keep in touch with the doll. He must not let the child move
away with her precious possession, and so with one hand he stroked
the head of the child while with the other hand's finger he kept in
touch with the familiar black hair. But still the child edged away,
withdrawing from his caress and regarding
him
with huge distrustful
brown eyes.
Meanwhile a whispered consultation seemed to be going on
among the women.
It
grew louder with excitement and finally the
grandmother, with an abrupt decision, separated herself from the
group and approached Kamrowski and cried out to him in English,
Where is Amada's money, where is her money?
He stared at the old woman stupidly. What money? She made
a fierce spitting noise as she thrust toward
him
a handful of yellow
papers. He looked down at them. They seemed to be telegraph forms.
Yes, they were all money-orders, sent from the city in which he had
lived with Amada. The sums were those she had stolen at night from
his pockets.
Kamrowski looked wildly about for a way to escape. The women
were closing about him like a wolf-pack, now all jabbering at once.
He made for the outer door. Beside the door the little girl with the
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