took from
it several other garments, which she threw upon a chair, together with
the dress.

"Into the whole lot of 'em," she said sharply, indicating the
garments. "And move lively, for supper's waitin' and there'll be
callers soon--gentlemen callers," she added, smiling grimly.

She turned and faced Carmen. Their eyes met. The woman stopped
abruptly and stood with arms akimbo, regarding the girl. Carmen gazed
up at her with a smile of happy, trustful assurance.

The woman was the first to speak. "Where did you come from?" she
demanded hoarsely.

Carmen told her. She mentioned Simiti, Padre Jose, and Rosendo. Her
voice quavered a little; but she brightened up and concluded: "And Mr.
Reed's Auntie, she met us--that is, me. Oh, isn't she a beautiful
lady!"

The woman seemed to be fascinated by the child's gaze. Then, suddenly,
as if something had given way under great strain, she cried: "For
God's sake, don't look at me that way! Who are you?" She dropped into
a chair and continued to stare at the girl.

"Well, I've told you," replied Carmen. "But," she continued, going
quickly to the woman and taking her hand, "you haven't told me your
name yet. And we are going to be such good friends, aren't we? Yes, we
are. And you are going to tell me all about this beautiful house, and
that wonderful carriage I came here in. What did make it go, anyway?
Do you ride often? Oh, I hope Mrs. Reed will take me out in it every
day!"

The woman's hand tightened over Carmen's. She seemed to struggle with
herself. Then, in a low voice:

"Your mother--is she living?"

"Madre Maria is," returned Carmen. "But my mother, my own real mother,
she died, long, long ago, on the banks of the great river. My father
left her, and she was trying to follow him. Then I was born--"

"The same old story!" muttered the woman fiercely. "I've been there,
girl, and know all about it. I followed the man--but it was my kid
that died! God, if I could have laid my hands on him! And now you have
come here--"

She stopped abruptly and swallowed hard. Carmen gently stole an arm
about her neck. "It isn't true," she murmured, laying her soft cheek
against the woman's painted one. "No one can desert us or harm us, for
_God is everywhere_. And no one really dies. We have got to know that.
Padre Jose said I had a message for the people up here; and now you
are the first one I've told it to. But that's it: God is everywhere.
And if we know that, why, nothing