"No, my child." Maria's father laid his hand kindly upon the little Indian's dark head. "You may come with us if you will."
"Oh, papa!" cried Maria, her face alight with eager delight. "Will you really take Guacha back with us?"
"I thought that you might like to have her go back with us and play that she was your sister," he said pleasantly. "Your aunt says she will take care of you both during the rest of the year, and the old people who have cared for your little friend are ready to give her to us if she wants to come. How about it, Guacha? Will you go far off to Para and be Guacha's sister?"
She looked from him to Maria, from Maria to the Senhora, who smiled at her kindly.
"May I take Chiquita?" she asked. "He hasn't a friend in all the world but me."
"Of course you may take your birdie, you dear little girl," said the Senhora, "and we shall all hope to have you very happy with us."
Guacha gave a contented little sigh, and slipped her hand into Maria's.
"You are all so good," she said. "I could never be anything but happy with you."