one else has an equal pride or
even an equal right in the matter."

But, though he refused to take up the colorful theme of the biographies
of the Captain, the Dancer, Lolita, and the rest, John Engle began to
speak lightly upon an associated topic, first asking the girl if she
knew with what ceremony the old Western bells had been cast; when she
shook her head and while the slow throbbing beat of the Captain still
insisted through the night's silences, he explained that doubtless all
six of Ignacio Chavez's bells had taken form under the calm gaze of
high priests of old Spain. For legend had it that all six were from
their beginnings destined for the new missions to be scattered
broadcast throughout a new land, to ring out word of God to heathen
ears. Bells meant for such high service were never cast without grave
religious service and sacrifice. Through the darkness of long-dead
centuries the girl's stimulated fancies followed the man's words; she
visualized the great glowing caldrons in which the fusing metals grew
red and an intolerable white; saw men and women draw near, proud
blue-blooded grandees on one hand, and the lowly on the other, with one
thought; saw the maidens and ladies from the courtyards of the King's
palace as they removed golden bracelets and necklaces from white arms
and throats, so that the red and yellow gold might go with their
prayers into the molten metals, enriching them, while those whose
poverty was great, but whose devotion was greater, offered what little
silver ornaments they could. Carved silver vases, golden cups, minted
coins and cherished ornaments, all were offered generously and devoutly
until the blazing caldrons had mingled the Queen's girdle-clasps with a
bauble from the beggar girl.

"And in the end," smiled Engle, "there are no bells with the sweet tone
of old Mission bells, or with their soft eloquence."

While he was talking Ignacio Chavez had allowed the dangling rope to
slip from his hands so that the Captain rested quiet in the starshine.
Roderick and Florence were coming in through the wide patio door;
Norton was just saying that Florrie had promised to play something for
him when the front door knocker announced another visitor. Florence
made a little disdainful face as though she guessed who it was; Engle
went to the door.

Even Virginia Page in this land of strangers knew who the man was. For
she had seen enough of him to-day, on the stage across the weary