him and prayed for guidance when he was a tender lad and his heart
burned with yearning for truth!

"God wrote the arithmetic--I mean, He told people how to write it,
didn't He, Padre?"

Surely the priest could acquiesce in this, for mathematics is purely
metaphysical, and without guile.

"Yes, _chiquita_. And we will go right through this little book. Then,
if I can, I will send for others that will teach you wonderful things
about what we call mathematics."

The child smiled her approval. The priest had now found the only path
which she would tread with him, and he continued with enthusiasm.

"And God taught people how to talk, little one; but they don't all
talk as we do. There is a great land up north of us, which we call the
United States, and there the people would not understand us, for we
speak Spanish. I must teach you their language, _chiquita_, and I must
teach you others, too, for you will not always live in Simiti."

"I want to stay here always, Padre. I love Simiti." "No, Carmen; God
has work for you out in His big world. You have something to tell His
people some day, a message for them. But you and I have much work to
do here first. And so we will begin with the arithmetic and English.
Later we will study other languages, and we will talk them to each
other until you speak them as fluently as your own. And meanwhile, I
will tell you about the great countries of the world, and about the
people that live in them. And we will study about the stars, and the
rocks, and the animals; and we will read and work and read and work
all day long, every day!" The priest's face was aglow with animation.

"But, Padre, when shall I have time to think?"

"Why, you will be thinking all the time, child!"

"No, you don't understand. I have to think about other things."

Jose looked at her with a puzzled expression. "What other things do
you have to think about, _chiquita_?"

"About all the people here who are sick and unhappy, and who quarrel
and don't love one another."

"Do you think about people when they are sick?" he asked with
heightened curiosity.

"Yes, always!" she replied vigorously "When they are sick I go where
nobody can find me and then just think that it isn't so."

"_Hombre!_" the priest ejaculated, his astonishment soaring Then--

"But when people are sick it is really so, isn't it, _chiquita_?"

"No!" emphatically. "It can't be--not if God is everywhere. Does He
make them sick?" The chi