"Quien sabe?" repeated Antonio, gruffly, as the young girl blushed under
his significant eyes. "It is no affair of mine," he added to himself, as
he led Pinto away. "Perhaps Father Pedro is right, and this young twig
of the Church is as dry and sapless as himself. Let the mestiza burn if
she likes."

"Quick, Pancho," said the young girl, eagerly leading him along the
corridor. "This way. I must talk with thee before thou seest Don Juan;
that is why I ran to intercept thee, and not as that fool Antonio would
signify, to shame thee. Wast thou ashamed, my Pancho?"

The boy threw his arm familiarly round the supple, stayless little
waist, accented only by the belt of the light flounced saya, and said,
"But why this haste and feverishness, 'Nita? And now I look at thee,
thou hast been crying."

They had emerged from a door in the corridor into the bright sunlight of
a walled garden. The girl dropped her eyes, cast a quick glance around
her, and said,--

"Not here, to the arroyo," and half leading, half dragging him, made her
way through a copse of manzanita and alder until they heard the faint
tinkling of water. "Dost thou remember," said the girl, "it was here,"
pointing to an embayed pool in the dark current, "that I baptized thee,
when Father Pedro first brought thee here, when we both played at being
monks? They were dear old days, for Father Pedro would trust no one with
thee but me, and always kept us near him."

"Aye and he said I would be profaned by the touch of any other, and so
himself always washed and dressed me, and made my bed near his."