"The good padre tells me that this rose of Cas-
tile is the only imported flower in California," he
cried, with enthusiasm, for although not a bot-
anist, there was a bump between his eyes as big
as a child's fist and he had a nose like the prow
of a toy ship. "Many cuttings were brought from
Spain--"

"What difference does it make where it came
from?" interrupted Rezanov testily. "Is it not
enough that it is beautiful, but it must have a pin
stuck through it like some poor devil of a butter-
fly?"

"Your excellency has also the habit to probe
into things he deems worthy of his attention," re-
torted the offended scientist; but he was obliged
to closet his wrath. An inner door opened and
the host reappeared with his mother and a fair
demonstration of her virtues. She was a very
large woman dressed loosely in black, but she car-
ried herself with an air of complete, if somewhat
sleepy, dignity, and it was evident that her beauty
had been great. Her full face had lost its con-
tours, but time had spared the fine Roman nose and
the white skin, that birthright of the high-bred
Castilian. Arguello presented his family ceremo-
niously as the guest of honor rose and bowed with
formal deference.