surd idea.

"But--you did something! What was it? Tell me."

"No, Padre, I did nothing," the child persisted.

He saw he must reach her thought in another way. "Why did the
crocodile come up to you, Carmen?" he asked.

"Why--I guess because it loved me--I don't know."

"And did you love it as you sat looking at it?"

"Of course, Padre. We have just got to love _everything_. Don't you
know that?"

"Y--yes--that is so, _chiquita_. I--I just thought I would ask you.
Now let us begin the arithmetic lesson."

The child loved the hideous saurian! And "perfect love casteth out
fear." What turned the monster from the girl and drove it into the
lake? Love, again, before which evil falls in sheer impotence? Had she
worked a miracle? Certainly not! Had God interposed in her behalf?
Again, no. "He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High
shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty." And would divine Love
always protect her? There could be no question about it, _as long as
she knew no evil_.

The morning hours sped past. From arithmetic, they turned to the
English lesson. Next to perfection in her own Castilian, Jose felt
that this language was most important for her. And she delighted in
it, although her odd little pronunciations, and her vain attempts to
manipulate words to conform to her own ideas of enunciation brought
many a hearty laugh, in which she joined with enthusiasm. The
afternoon, as was his plan for future work, was devoted to narratives
of men and events, and to descriptions of places. It was a ceaseless
wonder to Jose how her mind absorbed his instruction.

"How readily you see these things, Carmen," he said, as he concluded
the work for the day.

"See them, Padre? But not with my outside eyes."

The remark seemed to start a train of thought within her mentality.
"Padre," she at length asked, "how do we see with our eyes?"

"It is very simple, _chiquita_," Jose replied. "Here, let me draw a
picture of an eye."

He quickly sketched a rough outline of the human organ of sight.
"Now," he began, "you know you cannot see in the dark, don't you?"

"Yes, Padre?"

"In order to see, we must have light."

"What is light, Padre dear?"

"Well--light is--is vibrations. That is, rapid movement."

"What moves?"

"A--a--a--well, nothing--that is, light is just vibrations. The
pendulum of the old clock in Don Mario's store vibrates, you
know--moves back and forth."

"And light does that?"

"