nd as for Ricardo's cigarette, surely no reasonable
mortal could object to that. Ricardo himself would have questioned the
sanity of any one who might have preferred the faint, musky fragrance of
the alfilaria to the soothing odor of tobacco. He closed his eyes in
placid unconsciousness of such vagaries of taste, and rocked himself
rhythmically, as if he were a part of the earth, and felt its motion.

A wagon was creaking along the road behind the house, but it did not
disturb him. There were always wagons now; Ricardo had grown used to
them, and so had the senora, who did not even turn her head. These
restless Americanos, who bought pieces of land that were not large
enough to pasture a goat, and called them ranchos--caramba! what fools
they were, always a-hurrying about!

The wagon had stopped. Well, it would be time enough to move when some
one called. A dust-colored hound that slept at the corner of the house,
stretched flat, as if moulded in relief from the soil upon which he lay,
raised his head and pricked up one ear; then arose, as if reluctantly
compelled to do the honors, and went slowly around the house.

"Of course they've got a dawg; forty of 'em, like enough!" It was a
girl's voice, pitched in a high, didactic key. "I guess I c'n make 'em
understand, pappy; I'll try, anyway."

She came around the house, and confronted Ricardo, who took his
cigarette from his mouth, and looked at her gravely without moving. The
senora turned her head slowly, and glanced over her shoulder.

The girl smiled, displaying two rows of sound teeth shut tightly
together.

"How do you do?" she said, raising her voice still higher, and advancing
toward the senora with outstretched hand. "I suppose you're Mrs.
Gonsallies."

The senora disentangled one arm slowly from her rebozo, and gave the
newcomer a large, brown, cushiony hand.

"This is my fawther," continued the girl, waving her left hand toward
her companion; "sabby?"

The man stepped forward, and confronted the senora. She looked at him
gravely, and shook her head. He was a small, heavily bearded man, with
soft, bashful brown eyes, which fell shyly under the senora's placid
gaze.

"She don't understand you, Idy," he said helplessly.

The girl caught his hand, and squeezed it reassuringly. "Never mind,
pappy," she said, lowering her voice; "I'll fetch her. Now, listen," she
went on, fixing her wide gray eyes on the senora, and speaking in a
loud, measured voice. "I