but at sight of big black lines announcing the name of the publication. The Maestra was reading the Hearth Companion. With remorse, the Maestro remembered how once, in the heat of his proselytism, he had recommended to all his Filipino teachers to subscribe to American periodicals. It was a bitter backward path that his mind was treading as he went further into this affair, tracing back to his well-meant efforts so many unexpected results.
"Good-morning, Miss de la Rama," he said, gravely.
But she read on for several lines, then, seemingly having come to a satisfactory ending of an exciting crisis, she laid the paper down carefully and, looking up with a sweet smile, "Gooda morrneen, Señor Pablo," she answered.
And in her tone, her smile, there was no fear of disapproval, but rather that bubbling satisfaction which hardly can wait to be congratulated.
"Why are you not at school?" asked the Maestro, severely.
"Ah, de school, de school, yes, de school was very nice," she sighed, with the tenderness one uses to speak of the sweet, gone past. But her interest, plainly, was elsewhere.
"To-day is leapa-year day," she went on, her voice now vibrant with decision; "and I am going to get
