knew
about the panaderia and its occupants.

The Zanjero's wife understood it all now. She looked up at her
husband. There were tears in her eyes as she said:

"While you are forgiving that man, you'd better think how much
forgiveness I need for having stopped taking bread of the panaderia
in the heart of winter, when they needed the money so badly! To
think of their struggling along, and yet giving bread every day to a
woman and three babies! If the panaderia folks had not done this,
you'd never have found out about this plan to rob the zanja! That
woman would simply have kept the story and the key to herself, and
those dishonest men would have found somebody else to open the gates
at night for them. It was only because she thought that you were a
noted customer of the panaderia that she sent you word of this plan
to steal the water."

The great Zanjero turned and looked at Rosa.

"Tell that sick woman," he said gravely, "that I forgive her husband
for opening the gate, though I don't know how much water he helped
steal that night. Tell her, though, that he must never do such a
thing again. I am coming to see him myself, and I shall tell him he
is forgiven. But he must stop drinking mescal."

"And tell your grandmother," broke in the Zanjero's wife, "that I
want three loaves of bread to-morrow morning, and I want bread every
day. Here's the money for the three loaves. And I'm going to get you
a lot of regular customers! I have friends enough. They'll take
bread of you, if I ask them. You poor children! Why didn't you come
and tell me about things, long ago?"

So it was that the mercy which the old grandmother showed to the
sick neighbor and her children returned in blessing on the
panaderia. For the Zanjero's wife rested not till she had fulfilled
her promise. Customers became many and well-paying, and the old
grandmother, happy in the prosperity, said to Rosa and to Joseph:

"See you, my children? Did I not tell you that the Lord knew about
the panaderia? It is he who sends all this good to us who deserve it
not."

MISS STRATTON'S PAPER

The wind was blowing quite keenly from the north, and Miss Stratton
had the collar of her coat turned up, as she hurried through the
darkness of the avenue. She was talking behind her coat collar, the
tips of which brushed her lips. If what Miss Stratton said had been
audible to any one beside herself, it would have sounded as if she
were talking severely to some