uld meet a dismissed servant
of her husband."

Incarnacion slowly lit his cigarette, and said between the puffs, "And
the senorita--she would not meet him?"

"Assuredly not."

"And," continued Incarnacion, throwing down the match and putting his
foot on it, "if this boaster, this turkey-cock, says she did, you could
put him out like that?"

"Certainly," said Clarence, with an easy confidence he was, however, far
from feeling, "if he really SAID it--which I doubt."

"Ah, truly," said Incarnacion; "who knows? It may be another Senorita
Silsbee."

"The senora's adopted daughter is called MISS PEYTON, friend Nascio. You
forget yourself," said Clarence quietly.

"Ah, pardon!" said Incarnacion with effusive apology; "but she was born
Silsbee. Everybody knows it; she herself has told it to Pepita. The
Senor Peyton bequeathed his estate to the Senora Peyton. He named
not the senorita! Eh, what would you? It is the common cackle of the
barnyard. But I say 'Mees Silsbee.' For look you. There is a Silsbee of
Sacramento, the daughter of her aunt, who writes letters to her. Pepita
has seen them! And possibly it is only that Mees of whom the brigand
Pedro boasts."

"Possibly," said Clarence, "but as far as this rancho is concerned,
friend Nascio, thou wilt understand--and I look to thee to make the
others understand--that there is no Senorita SILSBEE here, only the
Senorita PEYTON, the respected daughter of the senora thy mistress!" He
spoke with the quaint mingling of familiarity and paternal gravity of
the Spanish master--a faculty he had acquired at El Refugio in a like
vicarious position, and which never failed as a sign of authority. "And
now," he added gravely, "get out of this, friend, with God's blessing,
and see that thou rememberest what I told thee."

The retainer, with equal gravity, stepped backwards, saluted with his
sombrero until the stiff brim scraped the floor, and then solemnly
withdrew.

Left to himself, Clarence remained for an instant silent and thoughtful
before the oven-like hearth. So! everybody knew Susy's real relations to
the Peytons, and everybody but Mrs. Peyton, perhaps, knew that she
was secretly corresponding with some one of her own family. In other
circumstances he might have found some excuse for this assertion of her
independence and love of her kindred, but in her attitude towards Mrs.
Peyton it seemed monstrous. It appeared impossible that Mrs. Peyton
should not have heard of it, o