"It is well, it is very well, my poor child," rejoined the missionary, compassionately, "that all whom she does teach are not so high-tempered as you are. What a time there would be in the school!"
"Why do you not leave us alone?" cried Francisco. "Do we trouble you? Do we try to make Catholics of you who come to our home here? Why do you not leave us alone?"
Walter was alarmed. He looked at his companion in surprise. The missionary drew back.
"Do not become violent," she said. "In India the natives were at least respectful. I wonder that your parents are not more careful of you than they are," she went on, turning to Walter. "They should not allow you to associate with such a rude person."
The boy's cheek flushed; he turned away without replying.
"Come, Francisco," he said in a low tone, pulling his companion by the sleeve. "Come; let us go into the house."
"I do not wonder you should wish to go away, my boy. You are probably ashamed of the conduct of your friend. I hope, at least, that you are."
"I am not ashamed," said Walter. "Neither of us is. We have no reason to be ashamed."
"You have been badly brought up," continued their tormentor. "You have been badly brought up—very badly."