hed parents. Magdalena sat at
one end of the table and never uttered a word. The only relief was
Helena, who talked bravely, but far less than was her wont; the big dark
dining-room, panelled to the ceiling with redwood, and hung with the
progenitors of the haughty house of Yorba, the gliding Chinese servants,
the eight stiff miserable little girls, with their starched white
frocks, crimped hair, and vacant glances, oppressed even that
indomitable spirit. On one awful occasion when even Helena's courage had
failed her, and she was eating rapidly and nervously, the children with
one accord burst into wild hysterical laughter. They stopped as abruptly
as they had begun, staring at one another with expanded, horrified eyes,
then simultaneously burst into tears. Helena went off into shrieks of
laughter, and Magdalena hurriedly left the room, and in the privacy of
her own wept bitterly. When she went downstairs again, she found Helena
making a brave attempt to entertain the others in the large garden
behind the house. They were swinging and playing games, and looked much
ashamed of themselves. When they went home each kissed Magdalena warmly,
and she forgave them and wished that she could see them oftener. She was
never allowed to go to lunch-parties herself. Occasionally she met them
at Helena's, where they romped delightedly, appropriating the entire
house and yelling like demons, but taking little notice of the quiet
child who sat by Mrs. Cartright, listening to that voluble dame's tales
of the South before the war, too shy and too Spanish to romp. Even at
that early age, they respected and rather feared her. As she grew older,
it became known that she was "booky,"--a social crime in San Francisco.
As for Helena, she was one of those favoured mortals who are permitted
to be anything they please. She, too, devoured books, but she did so
many other things besides that people forgot the idiosyncrasy, or were
willing to overlook it.

Don Roberto spent his leisure hours with his friends Hiram Polk and Jack
Belmont. There was no resource of the town unknown to these elderly
rakes; and the older they grew the more they enjoyed themselves. On fine
evenings they always rode out to the Presidio or to the Cliff House; and
it was one of the sights of the town,--these three leading citizens and
founders of the city's prosperity: Don Roberto, fat, but riding his big
chestnut with all the unalterable grace of the Californian; Polk, stiff