leaning over tia Marta, who had sunk in the door-way.
Scantily fed tia Marta's strength had given out in the midst of the
washing. She said she was only dizzy, but Arturo was frightened by
her looks. Suddenly it came to him that he loved her.

Arturo ran out of the house. He ran to a little grocery, and begged
the grocer to take the watch-chain for some beans. The grocer only
laughed, telling the boy the chain was worthless. But Arturo was
desperate. He knew better than to go to Manuel. Manuel would have
spent the twenty-five cents long ago, and Arturo pleaded with the
grocer. The grocer's wife was in and out, looking after her romping
children. She held the worthless, gaudy chain before her black-eyed
baby, who clutched it and laughed. The mother laughed, too. Her
husband laughed. The baby kept the chain, and crowed.

The grocer's wife filled a big paper bag with beans, and gave it,
with a loaf of bread, to Arturo. The boy clasped the packages, and
ran.

At home he found tia Marta sitting still with shut eyes.

"Eat!" cried Arturo, thrusting the loaf into her hands.

Tio Diego laughed with joy and put the beans to cooking. Arturo
stayed home from school that afternoon, and helped wash. To-morrow
the pay would come. Tio Diego tried lamely to help Arturo wash.

Tia Marta was feeling better, and had just declared her intention of
washing, when Arturo suddenly forsook the tub and dropped beside
her.

"Me malo, malo!" (bad) he sobbed.

He cried bitterly, and told tia Marta about the watch-chain.

Old tia Marta looked pityingly at her shamefaced nephew.

"Poor child!" she said, "thou art young."

But when next day the school teacher asked Arturo the reason of his
absence from school the previous afternoon, and he had confessed the
whole story, the teacher said, "Arturo, it is more beautiful to have
a heart of love toward others than it is to wear a watch-chain even
of real gold. Will you remember that?"

Arturo promised, and the teacher said to herself:

"I will see that tia Marta does not come to such straits again."

COMALE'S REVENGE

The Waves splashed on the bold rocks that guard the little harbor
of Colombo on the southwest shore of the island of Ceylon. Groves of
palm trees looked down on the one-story houses of the town. Upon a
rock outside of Colombo stood a barefoot boy, his dark eyes gazing
toward the tropically green mountains of the island. His attention
was particularly riveted on one