her wit was equal to the occasion, proving how
well the ladies had chosen their letter-carrier.

"_Ay Dios_!" she exclaimed aloud, brushing past the young Irishman, and
stopping with her eyes bent wonderingly on the strangely contrasted
couple; then aside in _sotto voce_ to Kearney, whom she had managed to
place close behind her, apparently unconscious of his being there--"A
_billetita_, Don Florencio--not for you--for the Senor Rivas--you can
give it him--I daren't. Try to take it out of my hand without being
seen." Then once more aloud. "_Gigante y enano_!" just as others had
said, "_Rue cosa estranja_!" (what a strange thing).

She need not say any more, nor stay there any longer. For while she was
speaking the crumpled sheet had passed through the fringe of the scarf,
out of her fingers into those of Don Florencio, who had bent him to his
work bringing his hand to the right place for the transfer.

Her errand, thus vicariously accomplished with another wondering look at
the giant and dwarf, and another "_Ay, Dios_!" she turned to go back to
the side walk. But before passing Kearney she managed to say something
more to him.

"Carriage will come along soon--two ladies in it--one you know--one dear
to you as you to her."

Sweet words to him, though muttered, and he thanked her who spoke them--
in his heart. He dared not speak his thanks, even in whisper; she was
already too far off, tripping back to the flagged foot-walk, along which
she turned, soon to disappear from his sight.

What she had said about the coming of a carriage was to Kearney not
altogether intelligible. But, no doubt, the note, now concealed inside
his shirt bosom would clear that up; and the next step was to hand it
over to him for whom it was intended.

Luckily, Rivas had not been unobservant of what was going on between the
girl and his companion. Her look seeming strange to him, had attracted
his attention, and though keeping steadily at work, his eyes were not on
it, but on them, which resulted in his witnessing the latter part of the
little episode, and having more than a suspicion it also concerned
himself. He was not taken by surprise, therefore, when Kearney, drawing
closer to the edge of the drain, spoke down to him in a half-whisper--

"I've got something for you. Bring the point of your tool against mine,
and look out when you feel my fingers."

"_Muy bien_! I understand," was the muttered response.

In a second or t