She was quite sure, by this time, that Curtis Conrad did not care for her at all, and she had ceased expecting him to come to their house. Yet she never went out upon the veranda without letting her eyes wander wishfully down the street. They were there now, scanning the long, steep hill. But they saw only a little, bare-legged Mexican boy toiling slowly up the grade. No, she decided, only one thing was left for her to do: she would have to write and ask him to come and see her. Her heart rebelled at first, and she unconsciously tossed her head and her eyes flashed. "But it's for daddy," she presently told herself, "and there's no other way. I've got to do it." Of course, it would be a humiliation; but so was the whole hateful business, and what was one little thing more or less? Looking toward the street again she saw that the little Mexican lad was coming to her gate. His baggy, ragged overalls were held by a single strap over his shoulder, and his small, brown face, under his miniature, torn sombrero, was hot and dirty. He peered at her through the palings, and she exclaimed, "Why, it's little Pablo Melgares!" She went down to the gate, saying in Spanish, "Do you want anything, Pablo?" Gravely and silently he gave her a letter he had been carrying in his hat. Although she had seen the handwriting but once before, her heart leaped and a delicious thrill ran through her veins as she read the address. "Is there an answer?" she asked, tremulously. "_Si, señorita_," said the boy. "Then you sit down here on the steps and eat candy until I come back," she said as she poured the contents of her box into the child's sombrero. She ran lightly up the stairs to her room and closed the door before opening the note. It said only: "Will you go to ride with me this afternoon up the canyon? I have something particular I want to say. Please send me word by the boy if I may come up at once." She devoured it with shining eyes, and pressed it to her face, her lips, her heart. Her woman's instinct divined what the "something particular" must be, and she laughed softly and joyously, while the color mounted to her brow. But presently, as she donned her riding habit, her look grew serious and grave. For a few minutes she had forgotten what it was she had to do.