poor, I suppose; he would not work with the shearers if he were not poor.”
“Oh, it isn't that,” said Felipe, impatiently. “You can't understand, because you've never been among them. But they are just as proud as we are. Some of them, I mean; such men as old Pablo. They shear sheep for money just as I sell wool for money. There isn't so much difference. Alessandro's men in the band obey him, and all the men in the village obey Pablo, just as implicitly as my men here obey me. Faith, much more so!” added Felipe, laughing. “You can't understand it, mother, but it's so. I am not at all sure I could offer Alessandro Assis money enough to tempt him to stay here as my servant.”
The Señora's nostrils dilated in scorn. “No, I do not understand it,” she said. “Most certainly I do not understand it. Of what is it that these noble lords of villages are so proud? their ancestors,—naked savages less than a hundred years ago? Naked savages they themselves too, to-day, if we had not come here to teach and civilize them. The race was never meant for anything but servants. That was all the Fathers ever expected to make of them,—good, faithful Catholics, and contented laborers in the fields. Of course there are always exceptional instances, and I think, myself, Alessandro is one. I don't believe, however, he is so exceptional, but that if you were to offer him, for instance, the same wages you pay Juan Can, he would jump at the chance of staying on the place.”
“Well, I shall think about it,” said Felipe. “I'd like nothing better than to have him here always. He's a fellow I heartily like. I'll think about it.”
Which was all the Señora wanted done at present.
Ramona had chanced to come in as this conversation was going on. Hearing Alessandro's name she
