said too much to a stranger. A shade of suspicion
seemed to cross his face, and he rose hurriedly and went out into the
kitchen. A moment later he returned with the priest's breakfast--two
fried eggs, a hot corn _arepa_, fried _platanos_, dried fish, and
coffee sweetened with _panela_.

"When you have finished, Padre, we will visit the Alcalde," he said
quietly. "I must go down to the lake now to speak with Juan before he
goes out to fish."

Jose finished his meal alone. The interest which had been aroused by
the child continued to increase without reaction. His torpid soul had
been profoundly stirred. For the moment, though he knew not why, life
seemed to hold a vague, unshaped interest for him. He began to notice
his environment; he even thought he relished the coarse food set
before him.

The house he was in was a typical native three-room dwelling, built of
strips of _macana_ palm, set upright and tied together with pieces of
slender, tough _bejuco_ vine. The interstices between the strips were
filled with mud, and the whole whitewashed. The floors were dirt,
trodden hard; the steep-pitched roof was thatched with palm. A few
chairs like the one he occupied, the rude, uncovered table, some cheap
prints and a battered crucifix on the wall, were the only furnishings
of the living room.

While he was eating, the people of the town congregated quietly
about the open door. Friendly curiosity to see the new Padre, and
sincere desire to welcome him animated their simple minds. Naked
babes crawled to the threshold and peeped timidly in. Coarsely
clad women and young girls, many of the latter bedizened with bits
of bright ribbon or cheap trinkets, smiled their gentle greetings.
Black, dignified men, bare of feet, and wearing white cotton trousers
and black _ruanas_--the cape affected by the poor males of the
inlands--respectfully doffed their straw hats and bowed to him.
Rosendo's wife appeared from the kitchen and extended her hand to
him in unfeigned hospitality. Attired in a fresh calico gown, her
black hair plastered back over her head and tied with a clean black
ribbon, her bare feet encased in hemp sandals, she bore herself
with that grace and matronly dignity so indicative of her Spanish
forbears, and so particularly characteristic of the inhabitants of
this "valley of the pleasant 'yes.'"

Breakfast finished, the priest stepped to the doorway and raised his
hand in the invocation that was evidently expected fr