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NOTHER hour's work and the mattress would be finished. Old Pedro glanced across at the young Mexican girl who was so deftly thrusting her needle in and out, tying the knots that held it together, giving it that soft, puffy look, that made one sleepy just to look at it.

Yes, surely Conchita had been a good investment, and he smiled thinking of his own acuteness and ability to know a good thing at sight.

The business was undoubtedly growing, and, praise the Saints! Conchita was well contended with the wage he gave her. He must see to it that she did not mingle with other girls and learn of minimum wage law, and those other conspiracies against honest men trying to make provision against old age. Pedro sighed as he thought how little time there was left before he should be overtaken by this dreaded period in which he would no longer be able to sew the jute and floss into the near-soft, soon lumpy mattresses -mattresses that he sold at such greatly reduced prices to the transplanted Latins who came to the sales he was always having, thereby providing a nice silver lining for his pocket, and many a nightmare for their restless heads.

No, the dreaded time could not be so very far off, for the beard that just now caught in the thread he was using, was almost as gray as the floss with which the mattress was stuffed, and when he rose to his feet there was a crick in his back that held him in a bow for some minutes. But no, Conchita had not seen it, and in glancing at her to see he noticed for the first time how white her skin was, and the length of her lashes on her thin cheek. Then he began to wonder what her eyes were like, and in order to find out, he said: "It would be better to tie the knot a little closer, Senorita." They were large and limpid, and for the first time he won

dered why they had that sad frightened look and this was the beginning of Pedro's realization of Conchita's personality, and curiosity about her past. He began with guarded questions that would not require lengthy answers, but when he found that her fingers moved just as quickly when her tongue was going, too, he was less cautious, and became benign, fatherly, and calculated to inspire confidence.

And so little by little Conchita began. to regard him as a friend, and told him of herself and the little home in Mexico from which she had fled that awful night when they had come to capture her brother, and not finding him had begun a search for her. Then how fortunately she had heard them in time, and escaping through a window in the little room where she slept, and hiding for days among kindly neighbors, had finally been helped by them to get to California, and this big noisy San Francisco.

And how grateful she was to him for giving her work, so that she might pay for the little basement room in the alley, and for the little food which she required. She told of how the people had accused her brother of committing murder and that they had put a price upon his head, and of how she had helped him to get away, by giving him all her savings. She spoke almost in whispers as she told her story, glancing furtively out into the street where the dark skinned Latins loitered about, and jumped with a frightened air when Pedro dropped his shears.

It was hard for Pedro to hear her low frightened voice, but someway of late he day not want her to notice that any of the infirmities of age were his, so he even slowed up a bit in sewing the binding around the edge of a mattress, that he might listen more intently.

Then, at last the idea crystallizedthat even the small amount he paid her

might as well be kept in his own pocketthat he might have some one with sharp eyes and clever finger to look out for the business, when he could no longer see to thread his needle, or be able to haggle with the Jew from whom he bought the jute.

Then it was that he went out and bought the tortillas and pat of butter, and asked Conchita to lunch with him. She had been pleased as any hungry child would have been and what was better, impressed with his kindness. Yes, it had been good business, for even if he should decide against marrying her, it was as well to put her under obligation so that she should feel she must not leave him in the lurch, or ask for more pay. Really it was quite sufficient, what he was paying her, but girls were apt to get foolish notions about clothes, and want much more than was good for them, and it was never wise to dress up a girl in this quarter of San Francisco where the men had no more morals than pigs. No, he was doing the right thing by Conchita, and if he should decide to marry her, just think what he would be doing for her! He, with his established trade and knowledge of business!

And so the days went on, and sometimes there were tamales for two, and now and then raviolas, and the good black coffee made on the stove in the back room. And Conchita began to look less frightened under his fatherly kindness, and to plump up like the mattress they worked on.

Then one day the advisability of instant action was made clear to Pedro by a young Porto Rican coming into the shop and looking more at Conchita than at the mattress Pedro was trying to sell him.

This young devil with the wicked eyes had said he would think it over and come in again, so as soon as he was well out of the shop, Pedro had said to Conchita: "Go you into the kitchen and start the coffee, and I will run around the corner to the tamale shop and get us something good to eat with it."

The lunch had been a feast that day, a real plunge for Pedro. They had had a tamale each, some enchiladas, dulces

and he had not hurried her, but allowed the full flavor of the food to sink in, as it were. And when they were both under the influence of the good peppery food, he told her how pretty she was and how he had begun to love her as a father, but that now his youth was being renewed by hers and of the good home and security against the world and all its danger she might have if she would, as he wished, become him wife.

Conchita had gasped a bit when he finally got to the point, and had glanced at him appraisingly. But she was a thoughful girl and would not come to hasty decision on any subject, so she told him she would like a few days to think it

over.

These few days made her more desirable than ever to Pedro, and the way he squandered money on viands dear to a Mexican stomach made the whole taamle factory force wonder.

And Conchita's mind was working-she knew no English, and was ignorant of any but the ways of her own people—she had no real friends nearer than the brother with the price on his head, and she knew neither where he was, nor how soon he would have to pay up. It certainly was hard to live on the pittance she was capable of earning-it might be a long time before another chance offered-she was seventeen already; Pedro was awfully old, but he was kind, and she did love the tamales she could not afford to buy for herself.

And so the fateful word was spoken, and as there was nothing to wait for, they went out together for the license that very afternoon, and arranged for the wedding on the morrow.

It was after they were back in the shop that Conchita asked the good kind Pedro for fifty cents to buy a ribbon for wedding finery. Pedro's astonishment was genuine. "Why, I paid you for the week!" He gasped! "Yes, but tomorrow we and for a bridal one should be gay.' ." He exercised patience but he made her understand that it was by denying himself the frivolities of life, such as ribbons, that he had accumulated the substantial little property which was giving

marry,

it was going to take more to- keep two than one, they would have to work harder and spend less. There, was a mattress they might finish that, evening, if they worked late, and as the wedding was going to take some of tomorrow's working time, it behooved them to hustle today. Anyway, such things were a wicked waste of both time and money. He so thoroughly believed his own arguments he saw no possibility of anyone not being convinced, so did not notice that Conchita fisiened in complete silence.

Her hands were certainly deft and swift, and he was lucky to have secured her to himself, and the business-and feeling that she was secure, he allowed a note of command to creep into his voice, and subconsciously decided to see how fast she could work under pressuresomething he had long wanted to know, but fearing to lose a good thing had not dared to try it out. So he urged her on in no persuasive manner and as his accents became more and more commanding, Conchita's head bent lower and lower over her work. At last her docility completely deceiving him, he swore Spanish oath at her telling her to get a move on-and she got. With a nimble spring she jumped up on the mattress, and the fandango she executed left nothing to be desired along that line. Neither was she dumb, but in a voice that left doubt of her sincerity she requested her husband of tomorrow to "Vete al diablo."

a

no

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Too astonished at first to realize what she was doing, Pedro's senses soon turned, and reaching up he grabbed her by the neck, and hauled her off. Then ensued a mixup of maid, man and mattress, plentifully punctuated with excited. Mexican exclamations. At last she slipped from his grasp and clutching something that might have been either a handful of the stuffing of the mattress or a lock of his hoary beard, "Vete al diablo" she screamed as she disappeared through the door.

Now anger is quite as blinding as the

more tender passion, and when one impelled by the former rushes madly up a street, down which wanders one whose vision is impaired by the latter, a col

lision is pretty sure to result. So Conchita plumped right into the Porto Rican who was on his way to the mattress shop, and he being a man of action quickly encircled her with his arm, and stooping planted a more or less garlicky kiss upon her anger-heated cheek. Her right hand lost no time in bringing a similar flame to his cheek, by a resounding slap, but he only tightened his hold and said, "Dulce corazon; little one, is it so you receive a lover's kiss? But love is strong as well as tender, and I happen to like a peppery morsel, so here's for another taste," and he kissed her again. Now it is doubtful if the Porto Rican knew who it was he held in his arms till, as he bent his head for the second salute, her face was turned to the light in the struggle, and it is also quite possible that Conchita in the confusion of anger, may have thought all this but a continuation of the battle with old Pedro. Be that as it may, when the street light showed them to one another there was a lull, a temporary suspension of hostilities, and they stared stupidly into one another's faces. At this crucial moment old Pedro came puffing up, waving a paper excitedly with a threatening gesture and sputtering out maledictions upon all females in general and Conchita in particular. He saw the tableau-his wifefor had he not the paper to show that she belonged to him-in the arms of this young devil who wasted the time of an honest man by a pretense of interest in mattresses when he was plotting to steal his wife. Choked by his wrath he was indeed terrible to look upon, and Conchita staring at his distorted features, actually snuggled against the breast she had just been pummeling with her fists. Speech was finally restored to him, but translated into English his remarks would be flavorless as a pepperless tamale. Accusations, maledictions, and threats tripped one another up upon his tongue. in a manner peculiarly Latin. His voice rose to a cracked scream, and an interested crowd a blue began to gather, through which coated "bull" soon elbowed his way. Collaring Pedro he shook a few last expletives from his trembling lips, as he de(Continued on Page 75)

L

IDA DARROW turned the doorknob very softly and slipped into the empty room. Instantly an icy chill enveloped her. She folded her arms in order to keep her hands warm and gazed about her with wistful eyes. "I wish we could," she sighed to herself. "But we can't."

At a sound behind her she glanced back over her shoulder. Her sister Angie, two years younger, was peeping in at her. "Well," Lida said, “you may as well come in, now I know you're there."

Angie came with a rush. "I didn't follow you on purpose, Lida," she said, putting her arms around the taller girl's shoulder. "I was coming anyway for a look. Seems like I can't think of anything else lately."

"Neither can I." Lida bit her lips. "Of course, it's an utter impossibility. We haven't a cent to spare for anything of that kind and it would cost as much as a hundred dollars."

"Oh, more!" interrupted Angie, breathlessly. "If we got a sofa."

"We'd have to have a sofa. No parlor is a parlor without a sofa. I wouldn't mind so much, Angie, only with Ruth going to be married-'

"Oh, I know! And she wants to be married at home. But I don't see how she can be without a parlor." "Neither do I." Lida groaned "If I was a fairy-But what's the use? I'm just an ordinary girl earning $10 a week, and you're just another ordinary girl earning $12 a week, and Ruth isn't earning anything at all because she's getting her clothes ready. So there you are!" She turned. "There's no use in our freezing ourselves to death wishing for what we can't have. Come on out, Angie."

They went into the next room, where there was a fire, and sat down before it. It was Saturday afternoon. There was

mending, baking, ironing to do, but they sat there struggling with an unsolved problem.

"If we owned the house I'd put a mortgage on it quick as lightning," Lida said.

"Oh, no!" Angie's own experience with a mortgage had taught her. Their little home had been covered with a mortgage of the blanket variety, and, when their father died, everything went out of their grasp forever, leaving them to depend upon their wits and young strength for another shelter.

"Well, I would," said Lida, with a flash of her big, dark eyes that made her look pretty and spirited. It was soon gone, however, and she sank back into dull despair.

"Maybe Zack Fancher will come back for you, rich as a lord," commented Angie, romantically.

Lida's lips twitched with pain. "I guess not. He'll never come back, and if he did he'd come walking with his shoes worn off his feet and no money to get new ones with. That's why I wouldn't have anything to do with him. Did you know it, Angie?"

"I suspected it," Angie replied. “Well. maybe you did right. We've had just about poverty enough for one family. And now, Ruth—”

"Oh, Orley Scudder will get along. He's the kind of man who will, and Ruth will help him. And, anyway." Lida's voice sank, "they love each other; they will be rich in happiness. Sometimes I think that's the best kind of riches." Her voice broke.

Angie looked up at her quickly, then back again to the fire. "Maybe you could have 'pinted' Zack," she suggested, softly.

Lida shook her head. Her lips set in a firm, scarlet line, but her eyes swam. "No, I couldn't. Do you think I'd ever have let him go if I'd had even the