I hurried out to shut the gate. Most boys are more or less cruel; but Spanish boys are intensely so. When I returned to the porch, Bruno and the deer were regarding each other with mutual doubts. I settled Bruno's at once by laying my hand on his head while I stroked our gentle visitor, saying,-- "Pretty deer, Boonie mustn't hurt it!" The deer seemed satisfied too, and to feel that danger was past. I brought water, and everything I could think of to offer it to eat. It was too warm with running to want food, though, and only took a few swallows of water. Its lovely, deep eyes suggested all sorts of romantic thoughts. Of course I quoted, "Come rest in this bosom," and "I never nursed a dear gazelle." I was sure its name should be Juanita, after the girl in the sweet Spanish song. All day the pretty creature roamed about our little enclosure, Bruno and I attending to its wants as best we could, having had no experience in catering for such guests. It turned quite chilly towards evening. When I had shut all the doors and built up the fire, I heard a clatter of small hoofs on the porch-floor, and there stood Juanita, looking wistfully in through the window. Bruno and I looked at each other, thoroughly perplexed. We were not prepared for such a hint. I thought afterwards it must have been taken as a baby-deer, and raised in-doors "by hand." We went out and prepared a warm bed for it in the wood-shed back of the house. It seemed quite satisfied with this arrangement, and settled down cosily as we left it and returned to our fireside. We spent this evening and night as we had the previous one, and were aroused very early in the morning by the sound of Juanita's impatient little hoofs on the porch floor. I had just finished feeding her and Bruno, when I heard the gate-latch click. I looked out. A colored girl was coming up the walk. "Mawnin', Lady," she said; "ole Miss hyud our deer was hyuh. _Dah_ you is, you good-f'-nuffin' ole runaway! Thanky, Lady. Come on, Billy!" And hitting _him_ a resounding slap on the back, she went off, accompanied by our romantic Juanita, transformed into meek and prosy Billy. Thus perish our illusions! Bruno was inclined to resent this unceremonious taking off of our pet, and began to growl; but as soon as I recovered from the mingled emotions which at first had rendered me speechless, I realized from Billy's actions that he and the colored girl were old friends; so I silenced him by saying,-- "Never mind, Boonie, it wasn't our deer; it only came for a little visit, and now it's going home." Then we stood watching graceful Billy and his uncouth companion till they disappeared through the old City Gates. Late that evening, Bruno having had his supper, I sat by the fire sipping a cup of chocolate, and thinking those tender, half-melancholy thoughts we are apt to have at twilight when separated from those beloved.