"And when she dies, what then?"
"You may be sure the child would be well provided for."
"That may be true. But it is the same thing. She would still be alone."
"You have the right to decide, Dionysio," said Mr. Page. "She belongs to you. What would you do with her? Would you send her to the Mission until she is grown?"
"Then she would not care for me, maybe. No; I think not the Mission."
"But she would learn to read, then, and to sew, and to cook, and to be neat."
"I can teach her to read, and our women—some of them, can cook well and sew."
"But you do not mean that you and she will live alone together? You are away so often—how could you manage it?"
A smile appeared on the stolid face of the Indian, and a little shamefacedly he replied:
"You have been good to the child, Mr. Page, and to me. I will tell you: On the ranch where I have been working there is an Indian family in charge. The owners do not live there much. These Indians are good people, and know well how to keep house. The girl was for a time at the Mission. That is where I will take my little sister."