dian men very
rarely cry. He is feeling all the worse that he will not let himself
cry, but shuts the tears all back."

"Yes, that is lots worse," said Rea.

"How do you know, pet?" laughingly said her uncle. "Did you ever try
it?"

"I've tried to try it," said Rea, "and it felt so much worse, I
couldn't."

It was not easy at first to make old Ysidro understand what Mr. Connor
meant. He could not believe that anybody would give him a house and home
for nothing. He thought Mr. Connor wanted to get him to come and work;
and, being an honest old fellow, he was afraid Mr. Connor did not know
how little strength he had; so he said,--

"Senor Connor, I am very old; I am sick too. I am not worth hiring to
work."

"Bless you!" said Mr. Connor. "I don't want you to work any more than
you do now. I am only offering you a place to live in. If you are
strong enough to do a day's work, now and then, I shall pay you for it,
just as I would pay anybody else."

Ysidro gazed earnestly in Mr. Connor's face, while he said this; he
gazed as if he were trying to read his very thoughts. Then he looked up
to the sky, and he said,--

"Senor, Ysidro has no words. He cannot speak. Will you come into the
house and tell Carmena? She will not believe if I tell it."

So Mr. Connor and Rea went into the house, and there sat Carmena in bed,
trying to sew; but the tears were running out of her eyes. When she saw
Mr. Connor and Rea coming in at the door, she threw up her hands and
burst out into loud crying.

"O senor! senor!" she said. "They drive us out of our house. Can you
help us? Can you speak for us to the wicked man?"

Ysidro went up to the bed and took hold of her hand, and, pointing with
his other hand to Mr. Connor, said,--

"He comes from God,--the senor. He will help us!"

"Can we stay?" cried Carmena.

Here Rea began to cry.

"Don't cry, Rea," said Mr. Connor. "That will make her feel worse."

Rea gulped down her sobs, enough to say,--

"But she doesn't want to come into the canon! All she wants is to stay
here! She won't be glad of the new house."

"Yes, she will, by and by," whispered Mr. Connor. "Stop crying, that's
my good Rea."

But Rea could not. She stood close to the bed, looking into old
Carmena's distressed face; and the tears would come, spite of all her
efforts.

When Carmena finally understood that not even Mr. Connor, with all his
good will and all his money, could save them from leaving their home