io_ Paella's pockets to get money for her lover; and that made
the teamster vomit mouthfuls of vile oaths on the subject of false
friendship, because he thought his tavern companions had robbed him
while he was drunk. One thing at a time, Tonet was moving all his
belongings from the tavern-boat to the truckman's cabin, as though the
girl were foreclosing on his property.

And _sina_ Tona was living more and more by herself. The Rector was
always off peseta-hunting, as he said, either fishing, or sometimes
shipping on one of the _lauds_ that ran to Torrevieja for salt. Tonet
was hanging around the liquor places or staying up at _tio_ Paella's.
Poor Tona was growing old behind the counter of her little shop,
carrying the yellow-headed baby around, loving her with a strange
vehemence at times, and then again hating her at the thought of that
thief of a Martinez--whom the Devil take in due time!

So it was only off and on that God looked after decent people! Things
were not going so well as they used to go, in the early days of Tona's
widowhood. Other old hulks had been turned by copy-cats into taverns
along the beach; and the fishermen could choose where they would go.
She, besides, was not so pretty as she had been once; and the younger
fellows were not so eager to buy drinks of her on the chance of getting
something more. The tavern was living on its old habitues, and bringing
in just enough to keep the wolf from the door. More than once Tona would
walk down to the water as she used to and sadly look back at the two
stoves now cold, the fences now rickety and tumbling down, the pig-pen
where a lean hog scarcely ever grunted at all, and the half dozen hens
hungrily pecking about the sands. How time dragged for her in that
stultifying life of solitude, which was enlivened only when Tonet got
into trouble or when Tona's eyes would fall on a picture of _sinor
Martines_ in uniform, which she had hung up in the stateroom as a
constant and refinedly cruel reminder of her one mistake.

Little Roseta, a favor left behind in the tavern-boat by the considerate
patrolman, gave her mother hardly a moment's peace. She was growing up
like an untameable wildcat. Every evening Tona had to go and hunt for
her before she could shut her up in the boat after a hard spanking; and
from morning till night she would never be seen unless she happened to
be hungry. Thy will be done! One more cross for poor Tona to drag
through this vale of tears