sked whether he often
did feel inclined. No, he thought not often; he had generally worked
hard enough in the week to make his book the best company; but he liked
now and then to see something green for a change after these bare
mountains and rocks, and the old Don Manrique was very civil and
agreeable. Then, after a few minutes' conversation of this kind,
something of the old conscious abruptness of tone seemed to come over
the young man, and looking down, he said bluntly, 'Miss Ponsonby, do
you think there would be any objection to my coming into Lima just for
Christmas?'

'I suppose not; I cannot tell.'

Tom explained that all the miners would be making holiday, and the
senior Cornishman might safely be left in charge of the works, while he
only wished to spend Christmas-day itself in the city, and would be a
very short time absent. He blushed a little as he spoke, and Mary
ventured to reply to what she gathered of his thought, 'No other day
would suit you as well?'

'No, ma'am, it hardly would,' he answered, gravely.

'I will try what can be done,' said Mary, 'unless you would speak to
Mr. Ponsonby yourself.'

He looked inquiringly at Mr. Ponsonby's figure some paces distant, and
shook his head.

'I will try,' repeated Mary; and then she added, 'These grand hill-tops
and blue sky almost make a church--'

'Yes, ma'am,' said Tom, his black eyes lighting at the thought; 'I've
felt so sometimes, but 'tis a mighty lonely one after a time. I've
taken my book, and got out of earshot of the noise the blacks make; and
I do assure you, Miss Ponsonby, the stillness was enough to drive one
wild, with nothing but savage rocks to look at either! Not a green
plant, nor a voice to answer, unless one got to the mountain echoes,
and they are worse--'

'But surely you have the Cornishmen! What do they do on a Sunday?'

'They lie about, and smoke and sleep, or go down to the valley,' said
Tom. 'I never thought of them.'

'I think you should,' said Mary, gravely. 'If you are in any authority
over them, it must give you a charge over their souls. I think you
should, at least, give them the choice of reading the service with you.'

'I'll think about it,' said Madison, gruffly.

'I will send up some books for them to make an opening,' said Mary. 'I
should not like to think of men living in such scenes, without being
the better for them.'

Robson was here obliged to call Madison to refer some question to him;
but M