"What is the new building?" asked Mary Lee. "It looks queer beside the other, doesn't it?"
"It is a school for Indian children," Miss Helen informed her.
"Can we go in?"
"We will see."
"I hope they will let us in," said Nan to Mary Lee, "don't you? I should like to see what an Indian school looks like."
"I wonder if they know any of the old, old hymns," said Miss Helen musingly. "It would be good to hear them."
To their gratification they were permitted to enter and not only saw the working of the school but heard the children sing some of the old anthems handed down from their forefathers. "Don't allow those old chorals to sink into obscurity," said Miss Helen to the priest who did the honors of the place. "Think, Nan," she went on, as she turned to her niece, "those are the same ancient chorals which were sung in Father Junipero's day."
"I can imagine just how it used to be," whispered Nan in reply.
As they came out they turned their steps toward the old church again. "But where are the flocks and herds, the busy men and women cheerfully working under their good teachers?" said Miss Helen. "Where are the vineyards and the fields of grain?" She looked out over the quiet landscape and sighed. "It was pretty hard," she said, shaking her head.
The good priest who showed them around gave many interesting accounts to which the older members of the party listened attentively. The twins were more interested in the swift little lizards darting in and out the crevices of the church, and in prying curiously into odd corners.