never had dreamed that any little gringo could look like that, and her black eyes turned to stars as she stared. She could only say chokingly, in gratitude and delight:
"Oh, ver', ver', be-a-u-teeful, señorita!"
But her crowning glory was the string of gold beads which Nan clasped about her neck. Truly, it was worth being a gringo to have this moment!
Mrs. Gallagher chuckled maliciously. She was thinking of the Fuentes's chagrin.
And when the time came it was worth ripping seams by candle-light to Nan; it was worth the loss of half a day on the shady side of the dobe to Mrs. Gallagher, merely to see Rosario, with her head proudly erect, walk down the aisle as the pompous master rang his bell for order. It was well worth the trouble if only to see the Fuentes's bulging eyes and Señorita Perfecta Torres's look of envy.
The benches of the schoolroom were crowded with visitors, but, when the school-master, self-conscious and perspiring in his best black clothes—winter-weight—seated himself in his squeaking rocking-chair and
