e good Sisters in the Convent of
the Holy Innocents. There were also a few arrangements to be made--and
his will. Which last did not take long time. It contained only one
clause: "I leave all of which I die possessed to my betrothed wife
Concha Cabezos of Seville.--ROLLO BLAIR."

The arrangements were these--Concha remained to assist Don Ramon, who
had once more assumed the position of a property-holder and man of
authority among his townsfolk, to open out and prepare his house for the
reception of Dolores. That little wife and mother, in spite of her new
joy, continued delicate in health, though (needless to say) the nuns had
given her the very best possible nursing. But those who saw the meeting
of husband and wife knew that now she would have a better chance of
recovery than all the bitter tisanes and laborious simples of the
Sisters' store-cupboard had afforded her.

Etienne and John Mortimer decided to await events at the hostelry of
Gaspar Perico. The former took the first opportunity of converting the
silent serving-maid as far as possible to his interests by a judicious
gift of some half a dozen gold pieces. Immediately thereafter, having
thus protected his rear, he sought the green lattice. It had been taken
down and a seven-foot wall had been built. Indeed a mason, who was at
that moment engaged in laying the coping, informed him that the family
had left for South America. Whereupon Etienne went back in haste and
found the barefooted Abigail.

"Why did you not tell me that they were gone--before----?" he demanded
angrily.

"Before what?" asked the Abigail, putting the corner of her apron to her
mouth and biting it with the utmost simplicity.

"Before I gave you that money?"

"Because--why, because your Excellency never asked me!"

"And pray, _Senorita_," growled Etienne, waxing grimly satirical, "what
did you suppose that I gave you the money for?"

The maid-servant let go the apron, put one finger to her mouth instead,
and, looking down with infinite modesty, sketched with her bare toe upon
the ground.

"Well?" queried Etienne, impatiently, and with a sharp rising
inflection.

"Because," fluttered the little maid-of-all-work, "because I--_I thought
you liked me_!"

Etienne turned away in a dumb rage, and the small sharp-featured Abigail
got behind the back-kitchen door to dance three steps and a double
shuffle all to herself.

When he had recovered his powers of speech Etienne called her the