"We are poor now," said Francisco, lifting his head, "but my people were great people when yours, Señor—the Americans—were nobody!"
"Nonsense!" exclaimed the Professor, sharply, catching at a tangible point of remonstrance with relief. "My people were never 'nobody'—they were New Englanders."
Francisco bowed.
"Francisco," said the Professor, in a different tone, "I thought you loved me—I thought you trusted me."
"What has that to do with it, Señor?" inquired Francisco, sternly. "It is of my sister I think. If you do not love her you must go away at once."
"I will be answerable to your sister only," began the Professor.
"Pardon me, Señor, you will be answerable to me. I am the head of the family. Francisca is only a child," said this other child.
The Professor was silent. When he spoke, at last, he was answering himself rather than Francisco.
"I will go!"
Francisco winced, but did not flinch.