before--I mean, of course, Clarence," he interrupted himself, catching
sight of the boy's whitening cheek and darkening eye, "I mean, you
know--this ridiculousness of my keeping you from school at your age, and
trying to teach you myself--don't you see."

"You think it is--ridiculous," repeated Clarence, with dogged
persistency.

"I mean I am ridiculous," said Don Juan hastily. "There! there! let's
say no more about it. To-morrow we'll ride over to San Jose and see the
Father Secretary at the Jesuits' College about your entering at once.
It's a good school, and you'll always be near the rancho!" And so the
interview ended.

I am afraid that Clarence's first idea was to run away. There are
few experiences more crushing to an ingenuous nature than the sudden
revelation of the aspect in which it is regarded by others. The
unfortunate Clarence, conscious only of his loyalty to his cousin's
interest and what he believed were the duties of his position, awoke to
find that position "ridiculous." In an afternoon's gloomy ride through
the lonely hills, and later in the sleepless solitude of his room at
night, he concluded that his cousin was right. He would go to school;
he would study hard--so hard that in a little, a very little while, he
could make a living for himself. He awoke contented. It was the blessing
of youth that this resolve and execution seemed as one and the same
thing.

The next day found him installed as a pupil and boarder in the college.
Don Juan's position and Spanish predilections naturally made his
relation acceptable to the faculty; but Clarence could not help