“She's been picturin' me in 'er mind all these years, Willie--picturin' a fraud,” wailed Mother Jenks. “If she sees me now, wot a shock she'll get, pore sweetheart--an' 'er the spittin' himage of a hangel. And oh, Willie, while she don't remember wot I looked like, think o' the shock if she meets me! In 'er lawst letter she said as 'ow I was the only hanchor she had in life. Ho, yes. A sweet-lookin' hanchor I am--an' Hi was 'opin' to die before she found hout. I've got a hanuerism in my 'eart, Willie, so the surgeon on the mail boat tells me, an' w'en I go, I'll go like--that!” Mother Jenks snapped her cigarette-stained fingers. “I 'ad the doctor come ashore the last time _La Estrellita_ was in, on account o' 'im bein' a Hamerican an' up to snuff. An' Hi've got 'ardenin' of the harteries, too. I'm fifty-seven, Willie, an' since my sainted 'Enery passed away, I 'aven't been no bloomin' hangel.” She wrung her hands. “Oh, w'y in 'ell couldn't them harteries 'ave busted in time to save my lamb the 'umiliatin' knowledge that she's be'oldin' to the likes o' me for wot she's got--an' 'ow I got it for'er.”
Billy Geary had a bright idea. “Well,” he said, “why not die--temporarily--if you feel that way about it? You could come back from the grave after she's gone.”
But Mother Jenks shook her head. “No,” she declared. “While Dolores is self-supportin' now, still, if anythink 'appened an' she was to need 'elp, 'elp is somethin' no ghost can give. Think again, Willie. Gor', lad, w'ere's yer brains--an' you with your stummick filled to bustin' with a breakfast fit for a knight o' the bawth.”
“Well,” Billy countered thoughtfully, “apparently there's no way of heading her off before she takes the steamer at New Orleans, so we'll take it for granted she'll arrive here in due course. About the time she's due, suppose you run up to San Miguel de Padua for a couple of weeks and leave me to run El Buen Amigo in your absence. I'll play fair with you, Mother, so help me. I'll account for every _centavo_. I'll borrow some decent clothes from Leber the day the steamer gets in; then I'll go aboard and look over the passenger-list, and if she's aboard, I'll tell her you closed your house and started for California to visit her on the last northbound steamer--that her cablegram arrived just after you had started; that the cable company, knowing I am a friend of yours, showed me the message and that I took it upon myself to call and explain that as a result of your departure for the United States it will be useless for her to land--useless and dangerous, because cholera is raging in Buenaventura, although the port authorities deny it----”