"How are you again?"

"The letter," replied Juanita, with a strong disposition to stamp her
foot.

"But," said Cranch, with business directness, "you've read enough to
know it isn't for you."

"Nor for you either," responded Juanita.

"True. It is for the Reverend Father Superior of San Jose Mission. I'll
give it to him."

Juanita was becoming alarmed, first at this prospect, second at
the power the stranger seemed to be gaining over her. She recalled
Francisco's description of him with something like superstitious awe.

"But it concerns Francisco. It contains a secret he should know."

"Then you can tell him it. Perhaps it would come easier from you."

Juanita blushed again. "Why?" she asked, half dreading his reply.

"Because," said the American, quietly, "you are old playmates; you are
attached to each other."

Juanita bit her lips. "Why don't you read it yourself?" she asked
bluntly.

"Because I don't read other people's letters, and if it concerns me