answer.

"Do you remember the day you came in here and threw Marcos Ramero out of
that door?"

"I do," I replied.

"Would you do it again, if it were necessary? I mean--if--" the voice
faltered.

I had heard the same pleading tone on the night of Mat's wedding when
Eloise and Beverly were in the little side porch together. I looked up
at the red light on the old church rafters and the rough gray walls. How
like to those hand-marked walls our memories are, deep-dented by the
words they hold forever! Then I looked down at the girl beside me and I
forgot everything else. Her golden hair, her creamy-white dress, and
that rich crimson scarf draped about her shoulders and falling across
her knees would have made a Madonna's model that old Giovanni Cimabue
himself would have joyed to copy.

"Is it likely to be necessary? Be fair with me, Eloise. I saw you two
strolling up that little goat-run of a street out there just now.
Judging from the back of his head, Marcos looked satisfied. I shouldn't
want to interfere nor make you any trouble," I said, earnestly.

"It is I who should not make you any trouble, but, oh, Gail, I came here
this evening because I was afraid and I didn't know where else to go,
and I found you. I thought you were dead somewhere out on the Kansas
prairie. Maybe it was to help me a little that you came here to-night."

Her hands were gripped tightly and her mouth was firm-set in an effort
to be brave.

"Why, Eloise, I'd never let Marcos Ramero, nor anybody else, make you
one little heart-throb afraid. If you will only let me help you, I
wouldn't call it trouble; I'd call it by another name." The longing to
say more made me pause there.

The light was fading overhead, but the church lamps gave a soft glow
that seemed to shield off the shadowy gloom.

"Father Josef came all the way from New Mexico to St. Ann's to have me
come back here, and Mother Bridget sent Sister Anita, you remember her,
up to St. Louis to come with me by way of New Orleans. I didn't tell you
that I might be here when your train came in overland because--because
of some things about my own people--"

The fair head was bowed and the soft voice trembled.

"Don't be afraid to tell me anything, Little Lees," I whispered,
assuringly.

"I never saw my father, but my mother was very beautiful and loving, and
we were so happy together. I was still a very little girl when she fell
sick and they took me away from her. I never knew