On our return Teresa prepared supper. She was more hurried than usual because she had to get the week's wash ready for the next day; but she listened with great interest, nevertheless, to the story of our afternoon's visit. "I'm going to see her tomorrow, poor child," she said. That night Teresa came to tuck us in and kiss us goodnight which was her habit, as she said, to try to take partly the place of our poor dear mother. I whispered in her ear, "Teresa, I've come to love Mademoiselle Virtud." "Good! good!" exclaimed the old servant; "that's something new indeed! And why has the wind so suddenly changed in her direction?" "It's because I know her now!" I said. Teresa seated herself on my bed, and in spite of the cold she talked to me a long time, telling me that my heart's coldness and my selfishness had caused her much grief. I could see how happy I had made her to have confessed my faults and thus show the beginning of a great change. She told me how my mother died with a prayer on her lips for me. Then die spoke of Paula who thought of nothing except making other people happy. "Wouldn't you like to be like Paula?" Teresa questioned me. "Of course, dear Teresa," I said, "but that's impossible, I'm too bad for that." "Who it is, Lisita, that makes Paula so good?" and Teresa's voice took on a new and most tender note. "It's the Lord Jesus!" I answered in a low whisper. "That's well answered, Lisita! And the same Lord Jesus would do the like for you. Let me ask you something. Do you not find me changed--since-- since--I began to pray to Him?" "Yes, Teresa." "In what way have you noticed the change?" "Well, for one thing--wash-day doesn't make you irritable, as it used to do," I said. "That's something, now isn't it? Oh, when one has the peace of God in the heart, anger doesn't have a chance to get inside as it used to do." I looked at her furtively. By the lamplight I could see in those dark blue eyes such a new, such a tender, confident look, that in spite of the wrinkled cheeks and her white hair I saw a startling likeness to Paula herself. I couldn't explain it at the time, but later I understood--Teresa and Paula were just part of the family of God and it was His likeness of Jesus, His dear Son, I had seen in both of them. PART TWO CHAPTER ONE SOME YEARS LATER The years passed swiftly without bringing any great changes in our quiet life. Our grandparents had aged a bit, and Teresa was not quite as active as formerly, while a few wrinkles had gathered on our father's forehead; but all this had come so slowly that the change was hardly noticed. Rosa, who was now eighteen years old, was studying in the city. She was still the same--studious, faithful and sincere in all that she did. Her quiet reserved manner caused some people to call her proud, but those who knew her better loved her, and knew she could be depended on in time of trouble.