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"It seems to me that you don't love your children as God commands,"
said Sister Rufa in a rather severe tone.
"Pardon me, every mother loves her sons in her own way. One mother
loves them for her own sake and another loves them for their sake. I
am one of the latter, for my husband has so taught me."
"All your ideas, Capitana Maria," said Sister Rufa, as if preaching,
"are but little religious. Become a sister of the Holy Rosary or of
St. Francis or of St. Rita or of St. Clara."
"Sister Rufa, when I am a worthy sister of men then I'll try to be
a sister of the saints," she answered with a smile.
To put an end to this chapter of comments and that the reader may
learn in passing what the simple country folk thought of the incident,
we will now go to the plaza, where under the large awning some rustics
are conversing, one of them--he who dreamed about doctors of medicine
--being an acquaintance of ours.
"What I regret most," said he, "is that the schoolhouse won't be
finished."
"What's that?" asked the bystanders with interest.


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