“There’s no use talking; I won’t take a boy who behaves that way. I’m angry with you.” The man was absolutely grave and, Mariposa saw, spoke the truth when he said he was angry. The boy was about to plead, when probably a knowledge of the hopelessness of such a course silenced him. With a flushed face, he stood before the tribunal fighting with his tears, proud and silent. When he could no longer control them he turned and rushed into the house, his bursting sobs issuing from the hallway. Miguel charged after him. “Oh, poor little fellow!” cried Mariposa; “how could you? Take him to see the balloon; do, please.” Barron made no reply, sitting on the railing, frowning and abstracted. She turned her eyes on the other man. He was still smiling. “Barron’s bringing up the boys,” he said, “and he takes it hard.” “If I didn’t,” said the man from the railing, “who would? Heaven knows I don’t want to disappoint the poor little cuss, but somebody’s got to try and keep him in order.” “Can’t you punish him some other way? He’s been talking about seeing the balloon for days.” “I wish to goodness I’d somebody to help me,” said the judge moodily; “I’m not up to this sort of work. It makes me feel the meanest thing that walks to get up and punish a boy for things that are just what I did when I was the same age. But what’s a man to do? I can’t see those children go to the devil.” The howls of Benito had been rising loudly from the house for some minutes. They now suffered a sudden check; there was a quick step in the hall and Mrs. Garcia appeared in the doorway, red and angry. Benito was at her side, eating a large slice of cake. “What d’ye mean, Gam Barron,” she said in a high key, “by making my son cry that way? Ain’t you got no better use for your time than to tease and torment a poor, little, helpless boy, who’s got no father to protect him?” “I wasn’t teasing him, Elsie,” he answered quietly; “I only said I wouldn’t take him out this afternoon because he behaved badly.” “Well, ain’t that teasing, when you promised it for a week and more? That’s what I call a snide trick. It’s just because you want to go somewhere else, I know. And so you put it off on that woman and the crab. Much good she is, anyway; I know her, too. Never mind, my baby,” fondly to Benito, stroking his hair with her hand, “mother’ll take you to see the balloon herself.” Benito jerked himself away from the maternal hand and said, with his mouth full of cake: “I don’t want to go with you; I want to go with Uncle Gam. He lets me ride in the goat-cart and buy peanuts.” “You’ll go with me,” said Mrs. Garcia with asperity, “or you’ll not go at all.” “I don’t want to go with you,” said Benito, beginning to grow clamorous; “I don’t have fun when I go with you.” “You’ll go with me, or stay home shut up in the cupboard all afternoon.” “I won’t; no, I won’t.”