"Padre," said Te-filo, "I cannot marry Ana, nor any one else but Magdalena, for I love her. Oh, Padre,"--and he dropped on his knees before the priest,--"let us be married. You do not know, she has tried hard to be good, and to please you. And I will work for you all my life. I have been praying to San Lucas ever since I told you, but he has not done anything." The priest was moved by the earnestness of the boy--for boy he had always considered him, and indeed he was little more in age. "Well, hijo mio," he said, "I do not know about that. The saints always hear us, as I have told you, and perhaps--who knows?--San Lucas may do something yet. Or, perhaps," he added with a smile, "it is because we changed your name, and he does not look on you as his son. Well, that was my fault. But you say that Magdalena has tried to please me? Good, then we will see. I will set her a penance, for she has not behaved well; then I shall see if she wishes to please me. To-morrow will be a day of observance, and there will be early mass in the church. Tell Magdalena, Te-filo, that she must come to mass and carry a penitent's candle. Let her be in the front row of the women. If I see her there I shall know she is obedient, and perhaps, yes, perhaps,--well, we will see about the rest." "Oh, Padre," Te-filo exclaimed, "you are my padre, indeed;" and he put the priest's hand to his forehead. "I know she will come, and I know she wishes to please you. And Padre," he said, "I have made a picture of the angels of La Navidad. I did it to please you" (he was about to add, "and Magdalena," but prudence stopped him in time). "I thought--I thought--" "Well, what did you think, hijo mio?" asked the priest. "I thought, Padre, that if you liked it, and said it was done well, it would be fine on the high roof, Padre, the angels, four of them, in the middle of the roof: like this, Padre, see!" An he raised his hands in the attitude in which he had seen Magdalena when she met him in the Father's room. "I could do it, Padre, if you like it." "Angels, Te-filo!" said the Father. "Hm! I do not know. It is hard to paint the holy angels, and diligent as you have been, I hardly think you are an Angelico. But go and bring what you have done, and I will see. Indeed, it is just what I would have, but it must be well done, or it will spoil the rest." The boy ran off, and returned quickly with a large sheepskin on which he had drawn in colors a really fine design: four angels in attitudes of worship, with uplifted hands, and eyes that expressed, crudely yet well, the wonder that the Holy Ones might well feel at the Miracle of the Manger.