“How was I to know better after your speech, Laura Ross that is to be,” laughed Alison. “You are in a box, and may as well own up. When is it to be? Come, tell me.” “Oh, why--Alison, I don’t know.” “But some day, truly?” “Yes, I suppose I may acknowledge that it will be some day, but now we are all troubled about Blythe. I did think that when he married and brought his wife home I might be satisfied to leave my mother.” “Then why not have it so?” “Because she whom I hoped he would marry, has thoughts of another.” “If you mean me,” returned Alison frankly, “John might have told you it would not be so.” “How did he know?” “He knew before I did,” said Alison, but would not explain this enigmatical speech. After this it was an accepted fact that Laura would one day go to live at the Ross rancho, and the intimacy between the two families was even greater than before. Therefore it was no surprise to Alison when Laura one day hunted her up as she was busy with a brood of young chicks. “Hallo,” said Laura, looking over the fence of the chicken yard. “A new brood, Alison?” “Yes, these are just out to-day. Did you come over alone, Laura?” “No, mother came with me. She is so worried about Blythe and wants to talk over the trouble with Christine, and see if nothing can be done to cure the boy of his infatuation for that wretched Mexican girl. Mother says she will never, never consent to the match.” “But why? Isn’t Lolita pretty enough for a daughter in-law?” asked Alison, as she put the last chick under its clucking mother. “What a flippant answer,” said Laura. “Then is it because Blythe is the first American who has wanted to marry a Mexican?” Laura was silent and Alison rising from her stooping posture shook out her skirts, and picked up the basket in which she had kept the chicks. “I am sure Lolita is a good, modest, beautiful, sweet-tempered, capable girl, much better in every way than most you meet. What possible objection is there to her?” “She is not of our religion in the first place.” “I don’t think that her own is so serious a matter to her that she would not be perfectly willing to accept her husband’s. What does she know of the faith of her fathers? Once a year, maybe, she sees the old padre; she says her prayers dutifully every day as she was taught; she believes only what she has been told she ought to believe. She has never thought for herself, and she is so obedient that she would be a tractable subject for your efforts at conversion.” “But her father, would he not make trouble if we tried to change her beliefs?”