cage," cried Vicente.

Rose-Ellen folded her lips over a giggle, for the chicken was a
canary.

Just then a head popped up behind a red rosebush. The lady of the
house was gathering flowers, and she held out a bunch to
Rose-Ellen.

"Don't prick yourself," she warned. "Are you the one they call
Rose-Ellen?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Rose-Ellen, burying her nose in the flowers.

"I had a little sister named Rose-Ellen," the woman said gently.
"You come play on the grass sometime, and we'll pick flowers for
your mother."

"And can Nico and Vicente come, too?" Rose-Ellen asked. "They're
my best friends."

The woman looked at Nico and Vicente with cold eyes. "I can't ask
_all_ the children," she answered.

"Thank you, ma'am," Rose-Ellen stammered. When they were out of
sight down the road, she threw the roses into the dust. Nico
snatched them up again.

"I wouldn't go there--I wouldn't go there for ten dollars,"
Rose-Ellen declared. Vicente looked at her with wise deep eyes.