imperfectly
caught.

"A treek? A treek?" she slowly and wonderingly repeated. Then suddenly,
as if comprehending him, she turned her round black eyes full upon him
and dropped her fan from her face.

"And WHAT for you ask me to come here then?"

"I wanted to talk with you," he began, "on far more serious matters.
I wished to--" but he stopped. He could not address this quaint
child-woman staring at him in black-eyed wonder, in either the measured
or the impetuous terms with which he would have exhorted a maturer
responsible being. He made a step toward her; she drew back, striking at
his extended hand half impatiently, half mischievously with her fan.

He flushed--and then burst out bluntly, "I want to talk with you about
your soul."

"My what?"

"Your immortal soul, unhappy girl."

"What have you to make with that? Are you a devil?" Her eyes grew
rounder, though she faced him boldly.

"I am a Minister of the Gospel," he said, in hurried entreaty. "You must
hear me for a moment. I would save your soul."

"My immortal soul lif with the Padre at the Mission--you moost seek her
there! My mortal BODY," she added, with a mischievous smile, "say to
you, 'good a' night, Don Esteban.'" She dropped him a little curtsy
and--ran away.

"One moment, Miss Ramirez," said Masterton, eagerly; but she had already
slipped beyond his reach. He saw her little black figure passing swiftly
beside the moonlit wall, saw it suddenly slide into a shadowy fissure,
and vanish.

In his blank disappointment he could not bear to re-enter the house he
had left so sanguinely a few moments before, but walked moodily in the
garden. His discomfiture was the more complete since he felt that
his defeat was owing to some mistake in his methods, and not the
incorrigibility of his subject.

Was it not a spiritual weakness in him to have resented so sharply the
girl's imputation that he wished to make love to her? He should have
borne it as Christians had even before now borne slander and false
testimony for their faith! He might even have ACCEPTED it, and let the
triumph of her conversion in the end prove his innocence. Or was his
purpose incompatible with that sisterly affection he had so often
preached to the women of his flock? He might have taken her hand, and
called her "Sister Pepita," even as he had called Deborah "Sister." He
recalled the fact that he had for an instant held her struggling in his
arms: he remembered the thrill that th