n't bring a lot of kids into the world and spend years teachin'
'em manners--"

She was interrupted here by a brief and scornful laugh from Mrs. Thomas,
who, on observing that her friend was gazing at her earnestly and
ominously, hastily converted it into a fit of coughing.

"Spend years teachin' 'em manners an' sacrifice myself to stay at home
and punish 'em when I might be jantin' 'round myself, not to have 'em
turn out a credit to me."

There was a finality about the statements which seemed to admit of no
further discussion, but after Jose had escorted the two women to their
cabin, he had returned for one of those midnight conferences with
Gallito over which they loved to linger, and the Spaniard had again
expressed his satisfaction in Pearl's changed demeanor.

Jose's laughter pealed to the roof. "You have eyes but for mines and
cards, Gallito. Though the world changes under your nose, you do not see
it. The moles of the earth--they are funny!"

"Bah!" casting at him a scornful glance from under his beetling brows,
"your eyes see so far, Jose, that you see all manner of things which do
not exist."

"I have far sight and near sight and the sight which comes to the
seventh child," returned Jose with pride. "Therefore, seeing what I see,
I say my prayers each day, now."

A bleak smile wrinkled Gallito's parchment-like cheeks. "And to whom do
you pray, Jose, your patron saint, or rather sinner, the Devil?"

Jose looked shocked. "You are a blasphemer, Gallito," he reproved, and
then added piously, "I say my prayers each day that I may, by example,
help Saint Harry."

"And why is Harry in need of your example?" said Gallito, holding up his
glass between himself and the fire and watching the deep reflections of
ruby light in the amber liquid.

"It goes against me to see an unequal struggle," sighed Jose. "He is
hanging on desperately to his ice-peak, but the Devil has almost
succeeded in clawing him off."

Gallito frowned. "This talk of yours is nonsense, Jose; but if there is
anything in it, Harry may understand that any interest he may have in my
daughter can lead to nothing. She is a dancer before she is anything
else, it is in her blood. Harry does not and never can understand her;
only one of her own kind can do that. He is by nature a religious; his
cabin is the cell of a monk."

Again Jose's eerie, malicious laughter echoed through the room.

"Aye, laugh," growled Gallito; "but you see my daughter fo