way
from the strong, close grasp.

"You vill faint, Senorita--I cannot let you go; dthere ees no seat
here." He takes off my hat and fans me. "Zome boy try to frighten
you," he says consolingly.

Mrs. Steele calls from the other side: "Where are you, Blanche?"

The Baron answers for me, holds me closer for an instant, and I think
he touches my hair lightly with his lips.

"Forgif me, Senorita. I vill find dthat boy vhat frighten you zo; I
vill gif him von hundred pesos for my sake, and I vill kill him
afterwards for yours."

I put on my hat a little unsteadily, still thinking more of that awful
brutish face than of the Baron. Mrs. Steele comes up with note-book
open in her hand.

"I've just seen the most dreadful little old crone," she says
cheerily; "she's like some grotesque dream--why, what's the
matter----?"

She breaks off, looking at me as we stand under the lamplight just
outside the door.

"It must be the same thing I saw," I say to the Baron; "what a goose I
am--but it looked like nothing human in the half light. I was so
scared," I confess, a little nervously.

"You look like a ghost, child; it was only a withered old beggar." And
Mrs. Steele puts her arm about me, and we go to inspect an ancient
well where the native women are filling clay jars and chatting merrily
as they file in and out of the gateway of the enclosure with their
picturesque burdens gracefully poised on head or shoulder.

"Let us go to dthe Plaza; Madame and Senorita can sit down for a
leedle."

It is only a step, and we are soon resting on one of the semi-circular
stone seats, listening to some primitive music and watching the
enjoyment of the people. Mrs. Steele draws my head down on her
shoulder and I shut my eyes. The Baron puts a coat over me and hums a
low accompaniment to the fantastic air. Suddenly I become aware of
someone touching me from behind the stone seat. I start up and turn
quickly, to find my apparition of the church chattering at my back.
Her restless eyes and the one white fang shine out from the shrivelled
monkey-face, and the skeleton arms with wrinkled, black skin drawn
loosely over the bones hold out long strings of shells. The strong
light shows her even uglier than I had thought, but it robs her of her
ghostliness, and I interrupt the Baron's probably impolite remarks by
saying:

"Don't drive her away. I'll buy some of her shells in remembrance of
the worst shock I've received in Mexico."

Soon I