The house
belonged to an old Indian woman who, her husband having died,
had gone to live with a daughter, and was very glad to get a few
dollars by renting her own house. It was a wretched place; one
small room, walled with poorly made adobe bricks, thatched with
tule, no floor, and only one window. When Alessandro heard
Ramona say cheerily, "Oh, this will do very well, when it is
repaired a little," his face was convulsed, and he turned away; but
he said nothing. It was the only house to be had in the village, and
there were few better. Two months later, no one would have
known it. Alessandro had had good luck in hunting. Two fine
deerskins covered the earth floor; a third was spread over the
bedstead; and the horns, hung on the walls, served for hooks to
hang clothes upon. The scarlet calico canopy was again set up over
the bed, and the woven cradle, on its red manzanita frame, stood
near. A small window in the door, and one more cut in the walls,
let in light and air. On a shelf near one of these windows stood the
little Madonna, again wreathed with vines as in San Pasquale.
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