was room for many more like herself, gathered a few young women into a
class whom she taught what she knew in regard to nursing the sick, and
upon whom she called for such assistance as they were able to give.

One morning a mission neophyte came to her with a message from Father
Amestoy, that he desired to see her as soon as she could come to him.
Wondering a little at the seeming urgency of the request, she took her
way to the mission at the end of her morning's visit to the hospital.
She met the Father walking slowly up and down in front of the monastery,
every now and then looking off down the road with anxious impatience. As
soon as he saw Apolinaria approaching, he hurried to meet her.

"My child," he exclaimed, "you are come at last! I have been watching
for you the whole morning."

"I could not come before, Father," she replied. "Did you want me at
once?"

"Yes, Apolinaria," the Father answered. "Late last night a messenger
came from San Diego with a letter from Father Barona, imploring us to
send you down there. They are in great trouble. The smallpox is raging;
so many neophytes are ill that help is needed to care for them. The
fathers are worn out with watching and tending the dying, and burying
the dead, and all the Spaniards are too occupied with their own sick to
be of much assistance. They want you to come. Will you go, Apolinaria?"

"Most assuredly, Father," Apolinaria replied promptly. "I shall be ready
to start to-morrow at daybreak. I cannot leave sooner for I must give
last directions to my pupils. But how shall I go? Have you made
arrangements for me?"