"But, my good man," began the missionary, "if you do not wish to let them stay where they are, at least keep them and hang them where you will."
"We thank you, madam, for your kindness," said the Indian, "but we do not, as I said, need them. We have already our own."
Francisco and Pedro with lightning celerity had already removed the unwelcome prints and were offering them to the would-be donor. Reluctantly receiving them, she went slowly back to her seat, near the door, followed by glances from the Indians which would have alarmed Aunt Mary.
When the congregation dispersed, the members found the missionary awaiting them at the threshold. She proffered them the pictures as they came out, but the Indians rejected them. Some looked at her stolidly and passed on as though they did not see her; others merely shook their heads, but not one accepted a picture. Mr. Page, with his children, had stopped near the entrance, wishing to speak to Francisco's uncle.
"Tell me, sir," said the "missionary lady," "why these people refuse the prints I have offered them? They should, it seems to me, be very grateful, instead of rejecting them in so surly a manner. I confess they are a mystery to me."
"Probably they were not pleased with your methods," replied Mr. Page, coldly. "You never see Catholics forcing their beliefs or customs on Protestants in this manner."
"I forgot, sir, that you were likely to be one of them," replied the amiable missionary, darting a glance of displeasure at Walter, who stood beside his father. The incident ended her missionary labors in the village of the Cupeños. Thenceforward she transferred her efforts to other fields, farther from home. But the consequences were more far-reaching than anyone could have foreseen.
Mr. Page waited until Francisco came out, followed by his uncle.
"This is my uncle," said the boy. "These are good Catholics," he continued, pointing to the group.