Relieved and pleased to help the good-natured couple in the care of the homeless waif, albeit somewhat doubtful of their religious methods, the schoolmaster said he would be delighted to number her among his little flock.  Had she already received any tuition?

“Only from them padres, ye know, things about saints, Virgin Marys, visions, and miracles,” put in Mrs. Hoover; “and we kinder thought ez you know Spanish you might be able to get rid o’ them in exchange for ‘conviction o’ sins’ and ‘justification by faith,’ ye know.”

“I’m afraid,” said Mr. Brooks, smiling at the thought of displacing the Church’s “mysteries” for certain corybantic displays and thaumaturgical exhibitions he had witnessed at the Dissenters’ camp meeting, “that I must leave all that to you, and I must caution you to be careful what you do lest you also shake her faith in the alphabet and the multiplication table.”

“Mebbee you’re right,” said Mrs. Hoover, mystified but good-natured; “but thar’s one thing more we oughter tell ye.  She’s—­she’s a trifle dark complected.”

The schoolmaster smiled.  “Well?” he said patiently.

“She isn’t a nigger nor an Injin, ye know, but she’s kinder a half-Spanish, half-Mexican Injin, what they call ‘mes—­mes’”—­

“Mestiza,” suggested Mr. Brooks; “a half-breed or mongrel.”

“I reckon.  Now thar wouldn’t be any objection to that, eh?” said Mr. Hoover a little uneasily.

“Not by me,” returned the schoolmaster cheerfully.  “And although this school is state-aided it’s not a ‘public school’ in the eye of the law, so you have only the foolish prejudices of your neighbors to deal with.”  He had recognized the reason of their hesitation and knew the strong racial antagonism held towards the negro and Indian by Mr. Hoover’s Southwestern compatriots, and he could not refrain from “rubbing it in.”

“They kin see,” interposed Mrs. Hoover, “that she’s not a nigger, for her hair don’t ‘kink,’ and a furrin Injin, of course, is different from one o’ our own.”

“If they hear her speak Spanish, and you simply say she is a foreigner, as she is, it will be all right,” said the schoolmaster smilingly.  “Let her come, I’ll look after her.”

Much relieved, after a few more words the couple took their departure, the schoolmaster promising to call the next afternoon at the Hoovers’ ranch and meet his new scholar.  “Ye might give us a hint or two how she oughter be fixed up afore she joins the school.”

The ranch was about four miles from the schoolhouse, and as Mr. Brooks drew rein before the Hoovers’ gate he appreciated the devotion of the couple who were willing to send the child that distance twice a day.  The house, with its outbuildings, was on a more liberal scale than its neighbors, and showed few of the makeshifts and half-hearted advances towards permanent occupation common to the Southwestern pioneers, who were more or less nomads in instinct and circumstance.