"Oh! then, they are not all away," piped a little voice from the inside. "Take the key from the window, and I will let you open my door."
Agueda laughed. Aneta slid off the horse, and Agueda rode to the high window, from whose ledge she took a key.
"My Roseta, is that you?" called the child's voice.
Aneta looked up at Agueda and shook her head with a pitying motion. The child's sorrow had effaced her own for the time.
"No, El Rey," she called; "it is Aneta, and I bring Agueda, from San Isidro."
"You are welcome, Señoritas," piped the little voice again.
By this time Aneta had inserted the key in the lock and opened the door. A small, thin child was sitting on the edge of a low bed. He arose to greet them with a show of politeness which struggled against weariness.
"Andres and Roseta are away," he said. "Andres said that he would bring her if he could find her."
Agueda had heard of El Rey, but she had never seen the child before.
"I should think he would surely bring her," said she in a comforting tone. She was seeing much misery to-day. She felt reproached for being so happy herself, but she looked forward to her home-coming as recompense for it all.