for my presumption, senorita--why did you not
write and tell him?"

"I never write letters."

"But you could have sent word by some friend travelling to San
Francisco, senorita."

"He would find it out in good time. Why hurry?"

"Ay, senorita, well are you named Dona Coquetta. You are famous even to
San Francisco. I will return to my poor friend. At your service, senora.
At your service, senorita," and he bowed himself out, and galloped away.

Dona Pomposa threw herself into her chair, and wept aloud.

"Mother of God! I had thought to see her married to a thrifty American!
What have I done to be punished with so heartless a child? And the
Americans will have all the money! The little I have will go, too! We
shall be left sitting in the street. And we might have a wooden house in
San Francisco, and go to the theatre! Oh, Mother of God, why dost thou
not soften the heart of the wicked--"

Eulogia slipped out of the window, and went into the mission gardens.
She walked slowly through the olive groves, lifting her arms to part
the branches where the little purple spheres lay in their silver nests.
Suddenly she came face to face with Pablo Ignestria.

Her cynical brain informed her stormy heart that any woman must succumb
finally to the one man who had never bored her.

THE ISLE OF SKULLS

I

The good priests of Santa Barbara sat in grave conference on the long
corridor of their mission. It was a winter's day, and they basked in
the sun. The hoods of their brown habits peaked above faces lean and
ascetic, fat and good-tempered, stern, intelligent, weak, commanding.
One face alone was young.

But for the subject under discussion they would have been at peace with
themselves and with Nature. In the great square of the mission the
Indians they had Christianized worked at many trades. The great aqueduct
along the brow of one of the lower hills, the wheat and corn fields on
the slopes, the trim orchards and vegetable gardens in the canons of the
great bare mountains curving about the valley, were eloquent evidence of
their cleverness and industry. From the open door of the church came the
sound of lively and solemn tunes: the choir was practising for mass. The
day was as peaceful as only those long drowsy shimmering days before the
Americans came could be. And yet there was dissent among the padres.

Several had been speaking together, when one of the older men raised his
hand with cold impatience.

"Th