ps
quivering. "Americanos tell her my father lazy, my mother no clean.
And I try, I try!"

He choked down a sob. A new teacher had come to the public school, a
sweet-faced, pleasant-toned young lady, whom Timoteo was ready to
obey devotedly from the first time she smiled on the school. Timoteo
did want to learn to be somebody! He looked with admiration on the
Americans boys' clothes and on an especial blue necktie that Herbert
Page wore. Timoteo wondered how it would seem to have a father who
worked and who provided his family with plenty to wear. The lad
Timoteo meant to be like one of the Americans when he grew up. He
would work, instead of lounging about the streets all day, smoking
"cigarros."

But alas! That day he had overheard some of the American boy
scholars talking to the teacher about the Spanish ones.

"There's Timoteo," he overheard Herbert Page say. "You don't want to
have him for your milk-man, Miss Montgomery! I don't believe they
keep the milk pails any too clean at his house. Laziness and dirt go
together in these Spanish houses!"

Poor Timoteo! He had hoped the teacher and her mother would take
milk of him. Miss Montgomery had almost promised to, before this,
and one customer for milk made such a difference in Timoteo's home
finances!

"But now she never like me any more," Timoteo hopelessly forewarned
himself, as he sat among the trees, his eyes yet red with crying.
"And I try, I try! I have learned wash my hands clean, when I go
school. And I try so hard learn read and write!"

Timoteo sighed heavily. He did not hate those American boys who
looked so much nicer than he. He only had a sorrowful, hopeless
feeling as he unfastened the cow and started homeward with her.

But when the cow lumbered in through the two white, strange
gate-posts at home, she swerved aside a little, and Timoteo saw, standing
under the tall red hollyhocks, his teacher, Miss Montgomery. She had
a bright tin pail in her hand, and she wanted some milk.

Timoteo's eyes brightened.

"I go wash my hands clean, clean!" he cried, and, disappearing, came
back a few minutes after, holding out his palms for Miss
Montgomery's inspection.

She smiled, and gave him the pail.

"Poor little fellow!" she thought, as she watched him milking. "I'm
afraid some of our American boys don't have charity enough for him."

Timoteo beamed with happiness as he returned the pail brimming with
milk. He was Miss Montgomery's milkman regular