uguese."

The red book was passed to the mother, who shook olive-leaves and
dust from her hands, and took up the Bible. She had dimly known that
there was such a book. She remembered hearing of the Biblia Sagrada
years ago, when she was a girl in Lisbon, long before she came to
California; but none of her acquaintances had such a book, and she
had never before to-day seen a Portuguese Bible.

But at last the book was handed back to Miss Elizabeth.

"No money," carelessly explained Mr. Esvido.

The oil-maker who bought the crops of the local olive-growers had
not yet paid for the olives. Even ten cents was not in Mr. Esvido's
pocket, just now.

Miss Elizabeth looked around. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Esvido seemed
very anxious about the Bible, but Miss Elizabeth felt anxious for
them. A woman who could read Portuguese ought to have a Bible, and
she ought to pay something for it in order to interest her in it
thoroughly. Miss Elizabeth's eyes spied a yellow squash. She did not
want it, but it would be payment.

"You give me squash, I give you Biblia Sagrada," she proposed.

"How you take it?" asked Mr. Esvido, smiling.

Miss Elizabeth opened her hands with a gesture that showed she meant
to carry the squash, hidden as much as possible under her short
cape.

"We make trade," agreed Mr. Esvido; and Miss Elizabeth, leaving the
Bible, bore the big squash away.

But Miss Elizabeth's yellow burden became very heavy before she had
gone far on the long country road. She found at last a wandering
piece of newspaper, which she wrapped over as much of the vegetable
as possible. The rest her cape covered, and then she marched on
toward the far wires of the electric car-line that had brought her
into the country. So vanished the squash of the Esvidos from their
eyes.

Meantime the Portuguese mother read aloud from the Bible. The
daughter, Delpha, listened, while gently rubbing the black olives in
the water-trough. She knew of Christ, yet the words of the Biblia
Sagrada were unknown.

After this, Mrs. Esvido read the book much in the evenings. Delpha
and Mr. Esvido listened, the father listening more because just now
he had not his pipe for company. The American who bought the olives
declared that no one who picked olives for him must smoke during
olive harvest! All his workmen, even when off duty, must refrain
from smoking, for the tobacco odor clung to clothing. The olives
would absorb tobacco smoke. The oil would be spoil