Part 15 (1/2)

Next day Arturo bought the watch-chain. The little boys at school were overawed by his showy ornament, but the teacher thought laughingly, ”How these Spanish do like to dress up!”

At night, when Arturo went home with his watch-chain hidden in his pocket, tia Marta was singing again. There was only a little bread and some dried figs for supper, and Arturo's healthy boyish appet.i.te already began to make him sorry for his bargain.

The next day tia Marta sang, and there were only dried figs to eat all day. The next day there were figs for breakfast and figs at noon. Even dried figs were almost gone.

At night, however, tia Marta said joyfully, ”I got wash to-morrow!”

Arturo felt relieved.

The next morning there were only two or three figs apiece. When Arturo came home at noon, he found frightened tio Diego crying feebly and leaning over tia Marta, who had sunk in the door-way.

Scantily fed tia Marta's strength had given out in the midst of the was.h.i.+ng. She said she was only dizzy, but Arturo was frightened by her looks. Suddenly it came to him that he loved her.

Arturo ran out of the house. He ran to a little grocery, and begged the grocer to take the watch-chain for some beans. The grocer only laughed, telling the boy the chain was worthless. But Arturo was desperate. He knew better than to go to Manuel. Manuel would have spent the twenty-five cents long ago, and Arturo pleaded with the grocer. The grocer's wife was in and out, looking after her romping children. She held the worthless, gaudy chain before her black-eyed baby, who clutched it and laughed. The mother laughed, too. Her husband laughed. The baby kept the chain, and crowed.

The grocer's wife filled a big paper bag with beans, and gave it, with a loaf of bread, to Arturo. The boy clasped the packages, and ran.

At home he found tia Marta sitting still with shut eyes.

”Eat!” cried Arturo, thrusting the loaf into her hands.

Tio Diego laughed with joy and put the beans to cooking. Arturo stayed home from school that afternoon, and helped wash. To-morrow the pay would come. Tio Diego tried lamely to help Arturo wash.

Tia Marta was feeling better, and had just declared her intention of was.h.i.+ng, when Arturo suddenly forsook the tub and dropped beside her.

”Me malo, malo!” (bad) he sobbed.

He cried bitterly, and told tia Marta about the watch-chain.

Old tia Marta looked pityingly at her shamefaced nephew.

”Poor child!” she said, ”thou art young.”

But when next day the school teacher asked Arturo the reason of his absence from school the previous afternoon, and he had confessed the whole story, the teacher said, ”Arturo, it is more beautiful to have a heart of love toward others than it is to wear a watch-chain even of real gold. Will you remember that?”

Arturo promised, and the teacher said to herself:

”I will see that tia Marta does not come to such straits again.”

COMALE'S REVENGE

The Waves splashed on the bold rocks that guard the little harbor of Colombo on the southwest sh.o.r.e of the island of Ceylon. Groves of palm trees looked down on the one-story houses of the town. Upon a rock outside of Colombo stood a barefoot boy, his dark eyes gazing toward the tropically green mountains of the island. His attention was particularly riveted on one of the highest peaks, that one which is known to English-speaking people as ”Adam's Peak,” and which is reverenced by natives as being the traditional spot from which Buddha ascended to heaven.

”The b.u.t.terflies are making their pilgrimage to the holy footprint,”

murmured the boy, Comale, to himself.

He could see from his standpoint great streams of b.u.t.terflies, taking their flight apparently from all parts of the island, and going toward the famous Peak. These flights of b.u.t.terflies, occurring occasionally in Ceylon, have won for the b.u.t.terflies themselves the name of ”Sama.n.a.liya,” since it is thought that the heathen G.o.d, Saman, left his footprint on the mountain, and the b.u.t.terflies, like devout beings, take pains to go on pilgrimage to the holy footprint.

Comale himself knew better than to believe in this old heathen tale, yet he never saw the myriads of flying b.u.t.terflies without remembering what he had been taught in his earlier years, before Christianity came under the high-pitched roof where Comale's father and mother lived.