Ainslee's Magazine, February 1913 — page 135: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SUB ROSA than any one else, and when the pro- cession had wound around the statue, and come to a halt among the flower beds, she stood out of place in her eagerness to see. The padre raised his hands, the Ave Maria broke forth, Toninio grasped the pulley rope, the birds rose from the Parrot Woman, the covering lifted. But the little boys stopped singing, the canvas fell in a lump among the poppies, the padre’s hands remained up- raised, a great heart-throbbing went through the people. It was in truth an apparition that they had seen. It was the statue of St. Michael; but the beau- tiful white face was painted red, like the devil’s face; there were two cow horns on its head; and a long tail of hempen rope, with a thorn on the end, hung mortifyingly down to the ground. . There was an utter hush, until sud- denly all the thirty little boys began to cry, and to stampede over the poppy beds, and then confusion and noise ran riot. Inés, screaming with horror, was carried into Rosa’s house, where she had tried to get for twenty years. To- ninio could not seem to collect the little boys, or himself, either; and it was not until lungs were exhausted that the peo- ple remembered the padre, and fell silent out of respect for him. When his voice came, it was so quiet and so sor- rowful that it awed them more than the sacrilege had done. ‘Go home,” was all he said. In the church, José denied it with a vehemence that verged upon anger. “Think well,” said the padre, “for you have been known to lie once, my dear, and if you do so now, and are found out, you shall surely go back to the almshouse, though my two thumbs would be wet every time that I thought of you there. Think well!” But he was defiant and sullen, and presently the padre, with a long sigh, called the whole thirty together, that he might question them in each other’s presence. José usually sat beside Tito, but to-day he crept to the rear, and Tito catne next to Bernardo. “Guillerno!” called the padre. 125 “No, padre!” and so on to Bernardo: “No, padre!” oT But José sprang up, white and trem- bling. “[ did it, padre, I did it!” he cried, and rushed through the doorway with tears enough to dampen all the thumbs in Spain. At noon next day the padre sank down on Rosa’s doorstep. “My heart is broken,” he said. “All night I did not sleep. I prayed and prayed, and I do not seem to have been answered. Shall he go to the alms- house? Must I keep my word? Rosa, when you are not cross you are my best and wisest friend. Can it be that God will answer me through you?” “He will to this extent,” said Rosa. “T have prayed less and thought more, and you may set your mind at rest about the almshouse, for José did not do it.” “What?” cried the padre, staring at her. “Do you know this? How do you know it?” “How many bones are there in the human body?” asked Rosa. “You should know better than I,” said the padre testily, “for you are al- ways picking people to pieces, but I am told there are one hundred and fifty.” “Then,” said Rosa, “I know one hun- dred and fifty times that José did not do it.” “Is it wisdom,” demanded the padre, “to say and say a thing because you wish it?” “What can that be?” peering into the road. A small cloud of dust was flying toward them down the highway, and in asked Rosa, a moment ‘Tito, in a whirl of golden | dirt, arrived before the padre, jumping madly up and down. “What ails you?” cried the padre. “Are you on strings? Do you think you are the marionette that you stole? Stop jumping! Speak!” But Tito flung himself upon the | padre, closing up his legs on him like the blades of a jackknife. “José did not do it!” he screamed. “I did it! I did it!” (C@ VNOOLK EO