ped at the door of a cottage,
where they were awaited by the matron who displayed a finger wrapped
in a bit of cloth. She greeted the priest courteously.

"_Senor Padre_," she said, "this morning I had the misfortune to cut
my finger while peeling yuccas, and I am not sure whether a piece of
the skin went into the pot or not. _Bueno_, the yuccas are all cooked;
and now my man says he will not eat them, for this is Friday, and
there may be meat with the yuccas. What shall I do? Was it wicked to
cook the yuccas, not knowing if a bit of the skin from my finger had
fallen into the pot?"

Jose stood dumfounded before such ignorant credulity. Then he shook
his head and replied sadly, "No, senora, it was not wicked. Tell your
man he may eat the yuccas."

The woman's face brightened, and she hastened into the house to
apprise her spouse of the _Cura's_ decision.

"God help us!" muttered Jose under his breath. "Two thousand years of
Christianity, and still the world knows not what Jesus taught!"

"But you told me he had good thoughts, Padre dear," said the little
voice at his side, as he walked slowly away with bended head. "And
that is enough to know."

"Why do you say that, Carmen?" asked Jose, somewhat petulantly.

"Because, Padre, if he had good thoughts, he thought about God--didn't
he? And if he thought about God, he always thought of something good.
And if we always think about good--well, isn't that enough?"

Jose's eyes struggled with hers. She almost invariably framed her
replies with an interrogation, and, whether he would or not, he must
perforce give answers which he knew in his heart were right, and yet
which the sight of his eyes all too frequently denied.

"Padre, you are not thinking about God now--are you?"

"I am, indeed, child!" he answered abruptly.

"Well--perhaps you are thinking _about_ Him; but you are not thinking
_with_ Him--are you?--the way He thinks. You know, He sends us His
thoughts, and we have to pick them out from all the others that aren't
His, and then think them. If the senora and her man had been thinking
God's thoughts, they wouldn't have been afraid to eat a piece of meat
on Friday--would they?"

Cucumbra, forgetting his many months of instruction, suddenly yielded
to the goad of animal instinct and started along the beach in mad
pursuit of a squealing pig. Carmen dashed after him. As Jose watched
her lithe, active little body bobbing over the shales behind the
flying anima