change in the atmosphere of these poor and destitute ones around us. It was
easy to imagine that Teresa might be the cause of the change.

* * * * *

The day following the above-mentioned Sunday, Rosa was sitting by the
bedside of Catalina who complained of her usual headache, and Teresa had
gone out on an errand.

Paula, a bit exhausted with her emotions of the day before, appeared to
have lost all animation, but soon her naturally happy nature asserted
itself, and by the time my father returned from his work, she ran to meet
him and opened the door as he entered, embracing him as if nothing had
happened.

"Well, well," said my father, "I'm glad to see that you have recovered your
good humor, Paula." A frank smile passed over Paula's face, but she said
nothing. "And how has Catalina been today?" he said, turning to me.

"She has a terrible headache. Teresa is afraid she's going to be sick
again."

"Poor girl! We must be especially careful then not to make any noise," and
he turned to go into Catalina's room, but Paula detained him.

"Please, uncle, have you pardoned me?"

"What for, child?"

"For what occurred yesterday. Surely you remember, uncle. I was a bit