Tiburcio was absent, and while awaiting his return, the priest became amiable and delivered a number of messages from friends and relatives at the Mission.  Tia Inez was somewhat embarrassed at first, but gradually grew composed, and before the return of her husband all three of us were chatting like cronies.  On the appearance of Tio Tiburcio, coffee was ordered and the padre told several good stories, over which we all laughed heartily.  Cigarettes were next, and in due time Father Norquin very good naturedly inquired why an unfavorable answer, regarding the marriage of their daughter with young Blas Travino, had been returned the previous summer.  The old couple looked at each other a moment, when the husband turned in his chair, and with a shrug of his shoulders and a jerk of his head, referred the priest to his wife.  Tia Inez met the padre’s gaze, and in a clear, concise manner, and in her native tongue, gave her reasons.  Father Norquin explained the prominence of the Travino family and their disappointment over the refusal, and asked if the decision was final, to which he received an affirmative reply.  Instead of showing any displeasure, he rose to take his departure, turning in the doorway to say to the old couple:—­

“My children, peace and happiness in this life is a priceless blessing.  I should be untrue to my trust did I counsel a marriage that would give a parent a moment of unhappiness.  My blessing upon this house and its dwellers, and upon its sons and daughters as they go forth to homes of their own.”  While he lifted his hand in benediction, the old couple and myself bowed our heads for a moment, after which the padre and I passed outside.

I was as solemn as an owl, yet inwardly delighted at the turn of affairs.  But Father Norquin had nothing to conceal, while delight was wreathed all over his rosy countenance.  Again and again he stopped me to make inquiries about Fidel, the new vaquero.  That lucky rascal was a good-looking native, a much larger youth than the aspiring Don Blas, and I pictured him to the padre as an Adonis.  To the question if he was in the ranch at present, fortune favored me, as Fidel and nearly all the regular vaqueros were cutting timbers in the encinal that day with which to build new corrals at one of the outlying tanks.  As he would not return before dark, and I knew the padre was due at Santa Maria that evening, my description of him made Don Blas a mere pigmy in comparison.  But we finally reached the house, and on our reentering the sitting-room, young Travino very courteously arose and stood until Father Norquin should be seated.  But the latter faced his parishioner, saying:—­

“You young simpleton, what did you drag me up here for on a fool’s errand?  I was led to believe that our generous host was the instigator of the unfavorable answer to your uncle’s negotiations last summer.  Now I have the same answer repeated from the lips of the girl’s parents.  Consider the predicament in which you have placed a servant of the Church.  Every law of hospitality has been outraged through your imbecility.  And to complete my humiliation, I have received only kindness on every hand.  The chapel which I have desired for years is now a certainty, thanks to the master and mistress of Las Palomas.  What apology can I offer for your”—­