she explained triumphantly, "ees why he mak' the good gift for the fiesta!"
She arose and offered her hand in farewell.
"But I cannot accept" repeated Brainerd feebly.
"To riffuse the gift of the Espanish people for the first fiesta of the young girl, Señor Brainerd," stated the Señora courteously, but with a totally unexpected edge to her voice, "is the same thing as one who says 'I am not your frien'.' It is the custom of old time; and we are people of the old time."
"It is kind of you; most kind," said Brainerd, after a slight pause. "Daphne will be delighted. I will see that she expresses her deep appreciation."
The equipage rolled and bumped its way down the hill. It did not return at once to Las Flores, but stopped for a call at La Corona del Monte.
"Did he accept?" asked Mrs. Peyton, eagerly.
"Oh, he tak' heem," smiled Dona Cazadero, indolently. Then after a pause—"All men the same—like childs."
Daphne spent a good deal of her time now at the Peyton's. There were important, mysterious things to be done to the gown. Somewhat to his own surprise Brainerd drove over a number of times and disposed his long tweed-clad figure in an easy chair where he could watch his daughter, flushed with a repressed excitement, moving to and fro. He was looking on her with new eyes as he would look on a new specimen. Evidently he found her good, for the eyes glowed softly: evidently the thought that she had grown up disturbed him, for the weary lines of his face deepened and saddened.
"I did not know before that I was old," he told Allie. "I have been grubbing away up there with always the hope of to-morrow to console me for the shortcomings of to-day. And now I see the to-morrows are few."
"Old! Nonsense, man!" chided Mrs. Peyton briskly. "You might be the Colonel's son. And he's not old yet."
"Nor ever will be, bless him," returned Brainerd with unwonted feeling.
It was agreed that Daphne was to dine and dress at the Peytons' before the ball and spend with them what remained of the
