's beautiful, and I thank you, of course. But I want to get
home. You must show me the way."

"Make the donkey carry 'em."

"Very well."

So they piled the branches upon the back of the dumbly protesting
"Californian," Amy retaining the delicate nest and gently shaking the
water from it.

"She don't like 'em, does she?"

"Not at all. Idle Pepita likes nothing that is labor. But I love her,
even though she's lazy."

"What'll you take for her?"

"Why--nothing."

"Won't swop?"

"No, indeed."

"Why not?"

"Oh! dozens of 'whys.' The idea of my selling Pepita! For one thing, she
was a gift."

"Who from?"

"My uncle Frederic."

"When? Where? What for?"

"Oh! what a question asker. Come, Pepit! Tcht!"

Shaking her body viciously, but unable to rid herself of her brilliant
burden, the burro started swiftly along the footpath running toward the
distant buildings, and over the little bridge that crossed just there.
Both path and bridge were worn smooth by the feet of the operatives from
the mills, which interested Amy more and more, the nearer she approached
them. Once or twice, on some rare outing among the hills where her home
lay, she had caught glimpses of their roofs and chimneys, and she
remembered to have asked some questions about them; but her father had
answered her so indifferently, even shortly, that she had learned
little.

Seen from this point they impressed her by contrast to all she had ever
known. There was a whirl and stir of life about them that excited and
thrilled her. Through the almost numberless windows, wide open to the
air, she could see hundreds of busy people moving to and fro, in a sort
of a rhythmic measure with the pulsating engines.

As yet she did not know what these engines were. She heard the mighty
beat and rumble, regular, unchanging, like a gigantic heart of which
this many-storied structure was the enclosing body; and she slowly
advanced, fascinated, and quite heedless of some staring eyes which
regarded her curiously from those wide windows.

A discontented bray and the touch of a hand upon her shoulder suddenly
recalled her, to observe that she had reached the bottom of a steep
stairway, and was face to face with another stranger.

"Beg pardon, but can I be of service to you?"

"Oh! sir. Thank you. I--I don't know just where I am."

"In the yard of the Crawford carpet mill."

"Is that the wonderful building yonder?"

"Yes. Have you never seen it before?"