"There is no such family. Who has been teaching you Spanish?"
"Really, isn't there?"
"'Chiquita' means 'very small,' 'little one,' 'little girl,' or
something like that. It's not a family name, it's a term of
endearment, usually."
Kirk remembered now how the girl's eyes had danced when she asked
him if he spoke her language. It was just like her to tease him,
and yet what a pretty way to conceal her identity!
"What made you take it for a proper name?"
"A-a little girl told me."
"Oh, naturally. All children are 'Chiquitas' or 'Chiquitos'--
everything, in fact, that is a pet."
Kirk felt somewhat uncomfortable under the older man's gaze of
quiet amusement.
"But these other families," he went on in some confusion--"I mean
the ones like those you just mentioned--they sometimes intermarry
with Americans, don't they?"
"No, not the better class. There have been a few instances, I
believe, but for the most part they keep to themselves."
"How would a fellow set about meeting the nice people."
"He wouldn't. He would probably live here indefinitely and never
see the inside of a Panamanian house."
"But there must be some way," the young man exclaimed in
desperation. "There must be dances, parties--"
"Of course, but Americans are not invited.
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