But the red rose remained in his hand.
Miss Dysart turned away abruptly. "What a place for a Flower Mission!"
Francisca looked puzzled. "Flower Mission—what is that?"
"The depth of your ignorance, Miss Francisca!" exclaimed the Professor. "You see, Mildred, Nature runs a Flower Mission on such a large scale that she deprives us of that—as well as many other legitimate philanthropies."
"Ah!" said Francisca, "now I do know what a Flower Mission is. It must be very helpful. And we do so little good with all these—only to dress the church."
"And welcome strangers," suggested Miss Dysart.
"My sister is always giving flowers away, and fruit," declared Francisco. "The Señor and the Padre know if that is true."
"But only for pleasure, thou foolish one," said Francisca, smiling at him.
Francisco did not smile back. He remained grave, and bowed their guest farewell, with his caballero air, without a word.
"What a beautiful, solemn boy!" exclaimed Miss Dysart as she walked down the street.