from a bicycle accident. While she had n’t seen the affair herself, she had been much interested in the story, as Nora and Brenda had told it to her, and she had thought it a wonderful coincidence that the man who had acted so promptly should have been the same man whom Brenda had photographed on the Fourth.
But here, apparently, was an even more wonderful coincidence. At least, it would be wonderful, if Mrs. Rosa should prove to be right; if “Brenda’s foreigner,” as they had called him in fun, should prove to be the man who had taken Mrs. Rosa’s money a few months before. Miguel Silva had certainly been the name of this man, and there was no doubt that Mrs. Rosa thought that she recognized Brenda’s photograph as a portrait of him.
Brenda herself was puzzled by Mrs. Rosa’s words, and half angry that her pictures should have been treated with disrespect.
“Angelina, Angelina, come here!” cried Mrs. Rosa; and at her mother’s summons Angelina appeared. She carried before her a little tray, on which were two saucers of blackberries and a plate of biscuit. But she set the tray down quickly, and ran over to her mother to look at the photograph which Mrs. Rosa had taken from Julia’s hand.
“Why, it’s Miguel Silva!” she exclaimed, angrily,—“the bad man. Where did you get it?”
Brenda now began to make explanations, and though Mrs. Rosa may not have understood her perfectly, Angelina comprehended that within a comparatively short time
