“Because, _niña_, I am still a Catholic. It is not popular to be, I know; but so long as ‘His Honor’ knows I am, and still keeps me in his service, I will be true to the religion of my fathers.” “His Honor is too wise and too great a man to interfere in anyone’s religious beliefs,” said Catalina. “Yet he is a man, and loves,” quietly remarked Juan, with a twinkle in his eye. “He does love. His is a great love; it extends over all humanity. Had you lived before, Juan, and _remembered_ it, you would understand,” replied the child, with deep pathos in her voice. Juan laughed heartily, and said: “Pardon me, _niña_, but what can a _child_ know of another life? If ‘Memory Fluid’ makes _señoras viejas_ out of _niñas_, it is not good. What would homes be without the innocent coo and laughter of babies?” “I am happier now than before I remembered, Juan. It is because you do not understand what it is to _remember_, that makes you say such things.” “Maybe so; maybe so, _niña_, but Juan is glad he does not _remember_.” “My dear _hombre viejo_, you must _remember_ what I told you about Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir and the priest,” cried Catalina, as she ran into the house. “Good-bye, Juan; watch out for the minister, J. T. Note—the Rev. J. T. Note, as he calls himself, and his followers. He is also a foe to progress. Guard him, Juan; guard him well. No harm must come to his Honor.” Juan’s reply was upon his lips, but the charming child was gone before he could voice it. He looked curiously at the big envelope in his hand, and while reading the address again and again, disappeared into the house.