would soon smile again upon the town.

Weary with pacing up and down the dining-room, Florence had stationed
herself at the window, and stood with her cheek pressed against the
panes, gazing dreamily out upon the deluged streets. She was roused
from her reverie by Mary's entrance.

"Florry, I have come in quest of you. Pray, how are you amusing
yourself here, all alone?"

"Communing with my own thoughts, as usual. Here, Mary, stand beside
me. As you came in I was puzzling myself to discover how those
Mexican women across the street are employing themselves. They
seem distressed, yet every now and then chatter with most perfect
unconcern. There, they are both on their knees, with something like a
picture hanging on the fence before them. They dart in and out of the
house in a strange, excited manner. Perhaps you can enlighten me?"

Mary looked earnestly in the direction indicated by her cousin, and at
length replied:

"You will scarcely credit my explanation: yet I assure you I perfectly
understand the pantomime. Florry, look more particularly at the
picture suspended in the rain. What does it most resemble, think you?"

"Ah, I see now--it is an image of the Virgin! But I should suppose
they considered it sacrilegious to expose it to the inclemencies of
the weather."

"Look closely, Florry, there are praying to the Virgin, and imploring