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"The priest came this afternoon," said Mrs. Gutierrez. "We sent for him in desperation. But Mrs. Navarrez would not even let him in the door, no matter how he pleaded. The priest went away. We had Officer Gilvie yell at her, too, but do you think she listened?"
"We must try some other way, then," mused Mr. Villanazul. "Someone must be--sympathetic--with her."
"What other way is there?" asked Mr. Gomez.
"If only," figured Mr. Villanazul after a moment's thought, "if only there was a single man among us."
He dropped that like a cold stone into a deep well. He let the splash occur and the ripples move gently out.
Everybody sighed.
It was like a little summer-night wind arisen. The men straightened up a bit; the women quickened.
"But," replied Mr. Gomez, sinking back, "we are all married. There is no single man."
"Oh," said everyone, and settled down into the hot, empty river bed of night, smoke rising, silent.
"Then," Mr. Villanazul shot back, lifting his shoulders, tightening his mouth, "it must be one of us!"
Again the night wind blew, stirring the people in awe.
"This is no time for selfishness!" declared Villanazul. "One of us must do this thing! That, or roast in hell another night!"
Now the people on the porch separated away from him, blinking. "You will do it, of course, Mr. Villanazul?" they wished to know.
He stiffened. The cigarette almost fell from his fingers. "Oh, but I--" he objected.
"You," they said. "Yes?"
He waved his hands feverishly. "I have a wife and five children, one in arms!"
"But none of us are single, and it is your idea and you must have the courage of your convictions, Mr. Villanazul!" everyone said.
He was very frightened and silent. He glanced with startled flashes of his eyes at his wife.
She stood wearily weaving on the night air, trying to see him.
"I'm so tired," she grieved.
"Tina," he said.
"I will die if I do not sleep," she said.
"Oh, but, Tina," he said.
"I will die and there will be many flowers and I will be buried if I do not get some rest," she murmured.
"She looks very bad," said everyone.
Mr. Villanazul hesitated only a moment longer. He touched his wife's slack hot fingers. He touched her hot cheek with his lips.
Without a word he walked from the porch.
They could hear his feet climbing the unlit stairs of the house, up and around to the third floor where Mrs. Navarrez wailed and screamed.
They waited on the porch.
The men lit new cigarettes and flicked away the matches, talking like the wind, the women wandering around among them, all of them coming and talking to Mrs. Villanazul, who stood, lines under her tired eyes, leaning against the porch rail.
