Thus throughout the afternoon the priest weighed and pondered the thoughts that sought admission to his reawakened mind. He was not interrupted until sundown; and then Carmen entered the room with a bowl of chocolate and some small wheaten loaves. Behind her, with an amusing show of dignity, stalked a large heron, an elegant bird, with long, scarlet legs, gray plumage, and a gracefully curved neck. When the bird reached the threshold it stopped, and without warning gave vent to a prolonged series of shrill, unmusical sounds. The startled priest sat up in his bed and exclaimed in amazement. "It is only Cantar-las-horas, Padre," laughed the little maid. "He follows me wherever I go, unless he is off fishing. Sometimes when I go out in the boat with padre Rosendo he flies clear across the lake to meet us. He is lots older than I, and years ago, when there were _Curas_ here, he learned his song. Whenever the _Angelas_ rang he would try to sing just like it; and now he has the habit and can't help it. But he is such a dear, wise old fellow," twining a chubby arm lovingly about the bird's slender neck; "and he always sings just at six o'clock, the time the _Angelas_ used to ring." The heron manifested the deepest affection for the child as she gently stroked its plumage and caressed its long, pointed bill. "But how do you suppose he knows when it is just six o'clock, _chiquita_?" asked Josè, deeply interested in the strange phenomenon. "God tells him, Padre," was the direct and simple reply. Assuredly, he should have known that! But he was fast learning of this unusual child, whose every movement was a demonstration of Immanuel. "Does God tell you what to do, Carmen?" he asked, seeking to draw out the girl's strange thought, that he might probe deeper into her religious convictions. "Why, yes, Padre." Her tone expressed surprise. "Doesn't He tell you, too?" Her great eyes searched him. He was a _Cura_; he should be very close to God. "Yes, _chiquita_--that is, He has told me to-day what to do." There was a shade of disappointment in her voice when she replied: "I guess you mean you listened to Him to-day, don't you, Padre? I think sometimes you don't want to hear Him. But," she finished with a little sigh, "there are lots of people here who don't; and that is why they are sick and unhappy." Josè was learning another lesson, that of guarding his speech to this ingenuous girl. He discreetly changed the subject. "What have you been doing this afternoon, little one?" Her eyes instantly brightened, and the dark shade that had crossed her face disappeared.