"And is heresy catching, mother, like the itch?" asked Rita ironically.
"I do not say that, God forbid," answered the good Maria; "but--"
"Everything is catching, except beauty," said Pedro, "and one is better off in his own country. I will bet my hands that those who have been there, will bring us nothing good."
"What do not the poor soldiers have to pass through!" sighed Elvira.
"That must be the reason why I have always been so fond of them," added Maria. "That, and because they defend the faith of Christ. And therefore, I am also very devoted to San Fernando, that pious and valiant leader. I have him framed in my parlor, and around him on the wall, I have stuck little paper soldiers, thinking it would be pleasing to the saint, who all his life saw himself surrounded by soldiers. When Rita was about twelve years old, I went to Sevilla, and she gave me a shilling to buy her a little comb. I passed by the shop of an old man who had a lot of little paper soldiers exposed for sale. What a guard for my saint, I thought; but my quarters were all spent. I had nothing left but Rita's shilling. The price of the set was a shilling. Go along, said I to myself, it is better that Rita should do without the bauble than my saint without his guard; and I bought them. I told Rita, and it was the truth, that my money did not hold out. The next day when I was taking them out to stick them up around the picture of the king, Rita came into the room. 'So then,' she said, 'you had money enough to buy these dirty soldiers, and not enough for my little comb,' and she snatched them from my hands to throw them out of the window. 'Child,' I screamed, 'you are throwing my heart into the street with the soldiers!' And seeing that she paid me no attention, I caught up the broom and beat her. The only time I ever beat her in my life."
"It would have been better for you," said Pedro, "if you had left the marks of your fingers upon her sometimes."
"Who can please you, Uncle Pedro?" said Rita. "My mother erred in not chastising her child, and I err in not spoiling mine."
"Daughter!" replied Pedro, "neither Hei! till they run away, nor Whoa! till they stop short."
"But since you like soldiers so much, mother," proceeded Rita, "why did you take such trouble to prevent my cousin Miguel from becoming one?"