to
squander the holy indulgences. Do as I do."

"I thought, so many more the better," answered the simple Sister Juana,
smiling. "But tell me what you do."

Sister Rufa did not answer at once. First, she asked for a buyo and
chewed at it, gazed at her audience, which was listening attentively,
then spat to one side and commenced, chewing at the buyo meanwhile: "I
don't misspend one holy day! Since I've belonged to the Sisterhood I've
earned four hundred and fifty-seven plenary indulgences, seven hundred
sixty thousand five hundred and ninety-eight years of indulgence. I
set down all that I earn, for I like to have clean accounts. I don't
want to cheat or be cheated."

Here Sister Rufa paused to give more attention to her chewing. The
women gazed at her in admiration, but the man who was pacing back and
forth remarked with some disdain, "Well, this year I've gained four
plenary indulgences more than you have, Sister Rufa, and a hundred
years more, and that without praying much either."

"More than I? More than six hundred and eighty-nine plenary indulgences
or nine hundred ninety-four thousand eight hundred and fifty-six
years?" queried Rufa, somewhat disgruntled.

"That's it, eight indulgences and a hundred fifteen years more and
a few months over," answered the man, from whose neck hung soiled
scapularies and rosaries.

"That's not strange!" admitted Rufa, at last admitting defeat. "You're
an expert, the best in the province."

The flattered man smiled and continued, "It isn't so wonderful that I
earn more than you do. Why, I can almost say that even when sleeping
I earn indulgences."

"And what do you do with them, sir?" asked four or five voices at
the same time.

"Pish!" answered the man with a gesture of proud disdain. "I have
them to throw away!"

"But in that I can't commend you, sir," protested Rufa. "You'll go
to purgatory for wasting the indulgences. You know very well that
for every idle word one must suffer forty days in fire, according to
the curate; for every span of thread uselessly wasted, sixty days;
and for every drop of water spilled, twenty. You'll go to purgatory."

"Well, I'll know how to get out," answered Brother Pedro with sublime
confidence. "How many souls have I saved from the flames! How many
saints have I made! Besides, even _in articulo mortis_ I can still
earn, if I wish, at least seven plenary indulgences and shall be able
to save others as I die." So saying, he strode pro