"I wish we could have that cute little thing to live with us," said Nellie. "She is not so very dark. I would like her for a little playmate, mamma."
"She is very attractive," said her mother. "What a pity she must live in a hovel like this." They turned to go, when a young man entered from the outside. It was Dionysio.
"Good-evening," he replied to Mr. Page's salutation. "Were you looking for me?"
"No," replied Mr. Page, "we were not looking for you, but we are glad to see you. We have been purchasing eggs from these old people. I am told they have an excellent lot of fowls. Perhaps you are on the same errand."
"I!" exclaimed the boy; "I live here—these are my grandfather and grandmother—and my little sister," he added, as the child glided to his side.
Mrs. Page regarded him sadly.
"You are thinking, madam," said the Indian boy, "that it is a poor place—and so it is. But in the winter we are a little better off. Ours is yonder adobe house. My grandparents are too old and my sister too little to do much work. I must be away working whenever I can."
"What is your sister's name?" inquired Mrs. Page. "She is a lovely child."
"She is called Margarita," said the boy. "She is fond of her brother."
"Mamma," whispered Nellie, "ask him to let her come and play with me."