“But, dear papa, the people would not be able to protect themselves, if you were gone. Dear papa, do not court danger,” cried Catalina. “That child! She makes me afraid, your Honor. I wish she were more like my own little granddaughter,” said Juan, stepping closer to the marble statue and further from the child. “Poor man,” said Catalina, “he does not _remember_. He is afraid of me, is he not, papa? How strange that anyone is afraid of a little girl.” “It is strange, dear; but Juan is an old man and has never taken ‘Memory Fluid,’” replied the Governor. “Juan, I will remain in my room with Catalina. Serve us a luncheon here promptly at twelve-thirty, one hour hence. I have a presentiment that I will be seriously occupied about one o’clock. Tell the _chef_ to prepare a luncheon for two persons, in a manner befitting his Excellency, and send it promptly at half-past twelve to my private studio.” “Yes, your Honor,” he replied, with a low curtesy, as he left the room, while he mentally exclaimed: “If I am not a fool, he will be _seriously occupied at_ one o’clock. The big letter I have is to be delivered to him at that time. I wish it were _one_ now; I want to get rid of it. It seems to be burning a hole into my body. I thought I would ’speriment with ‘Memory Fluid’ this morning. But now I will do nothing rash. I will let the past rest, so far as I am concerned, until I see the result of the present unsettled state of affairs. In the meantime I will take the matter of being a subject under grave consideration. If I was just ten years younger, strangers would take me for a great scientist. At sixty it is difficult for a man to take on new ideas.” Juan had not been commenting aloud, consequently was very much surprised by hearing the familiar tones of Julio Murillo saying: “Don’t bother about your age, Juan. You will live again, if you desire; then you may be a very learned man.” Juan did not reply, and the great scientist’s assistant went on. With his head low upon his breast, frightened and trembling, Juan hastened to the kitchen. Governor Lehumada and Catalina were reclining in large, comfortable chairs in the room where Juan had left them. The Governor in deep meditation, the child thumping upon the arm of the chair with a small stick, and singing softly, the words, “Be it ever so humble, there is no place like home;” and the exquisite tone in which they were sung caught the ear of the Governor and unknown to the child, he watched her intently until her song ceased. “Those words, Catalina, sound strangely familiar to me. Is it a new song, or an old one revived?” he asked.