~=—- - Feaaree ope Pe ee ee eee ee eee ee eee ppeegeam Sprubplistiehesiorne Aeaetriraa ear eee | cq tagen § a nbarpacs ante Da tne fon bee bare bneennia Se: peppers 6a 3a ee J St Re ee aan aerne rar reel ecereeseaarete: oe w Be re apo eyerne >a sree seared = ~- > perpcoa ress) Prpees yea Pe pe nS a Poder ne RIE TO ee ae Oe AE ee tee eee) z rs : rer Bapese ere wieteles ears: pee mgay tes *, ott yes ig , Ke ANITA A GIRL OF THE PHILIPPINES ANITA A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES By P. H. J. LERRIGO Author of “ The Stature of a Perfect Man,” ‘“* Rock-Breakers,” etc. PHILADELPHIA THE JUDSON PRESS BOSTON CHICAGO LOS ANGELES KANSAS CITY SEATTLE TORONTO Copyright, 1925, by THE JUDSON PRESS Published June, 1925 PRINTED IN U.S. A. This book is affectionately dedicated to the memory of Little Mary Robbins Those who knew her will recognize her story in that of little Agnes Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2022 with funding from Princeton Theological Seminary Library https://archive.org/details/anitataleofphili0Olerr A WORD TO THE READER THE intimate life of the missionary can rarely be fully told. But it contains more of interest, romance, adventure, and even excitement than almost any other career. This volume is an effort to open a window for the reader into the experience of the Philippine mis- sionary. The author has striven for fidelity in pre- senting the picture, but has felt that a thread of narrative through the whole would help to sustain the reader’s interest. There is no reason why he should not frankly confess that most of the incidents of this story have been taken from his experience as a missionary at Capiz, P. I., and if his former col- leagues (Dr. and Mrs. J. C. Robbins, Miss Margaret Suman, Miss Rose Nicolet, and others) should find themselves too clearly portrayed in these pages, he craves their forgiveness. At any rate the sorrow, service, sacrifice, and suffering depicted here are an all too meager picture of the devotion they gave to the work. The story was started more than fifteen years ago in Capiz, but has gone haltingly through the busy years. Mrs. Lerrigo has contributed largely to it from her accurate recollections of our Philippine days. EAST ORANGE, N. J. June, 1925. 4 = = >. i ; ae, | <2 oe Pa ek ag? lie er Be ee , Omar. < ¥, ae i ra eed CHAPTER I. II. III. Akh WALLETS IX. CONTENTS THE SUNDAY SING. JOAQUIN’S FEET Get HIM INTO TROUBLE .......... JOSE AND THE IDOLS. CALIGULA CUL- TIVATES ANITA’S ACQUAINTANCE .. Mrs. WALLACE SERVES TEA, THE BOYS DORM ETORY sare oie ANITA GOES TO SCHOOL. THE BEG- GAR’S ‘TRADE. . CALIGULA INTER- VEEN EIS eens Wa) ta eeb ewe onsen eee aie . JUAN GETS A JOB. THE HOME SCHOOL LAKESSIUANSTO.GHURCH 1 ae) eee . PAZ PLUCKS A CABBAGE. ANITA SEES THE HOME SCHOOL. NEMESIO GETS INTOZEROUBLER Ae Ei re ear es A NEW PATIENT AT THE HOSPITAL. CALIGULA FINDS CAUSE FOR THANK- 14 UPN DISTSE: ci Pec) Ree a ae CONCHING HAS A LESSON IN TAKING PULSES. MISS STEARNS PROVES HERSELF A MOTHERLY SOUL ...... JOAQUIN AND JUAN MAKE CONTRIBU- TIONS. 'THE PROGRESSIVE DINNER. THOPESRORTGALIGULATHRE Soe 12 28 46 61 73 89 ahs CONTENTS CHAPTER X. WALLACE AND MURRAY GO TOURING. THE HOPE OF THE FUTURE. DEACON TOMAS SWIMS THE RIVER ........ XI. THE MEETING AT SANTA PETRONILA. THE GOATS EAT THE PASTOR’S BREAKFAST, 'THE ROBBERS’ CAVE. . XII. THE HOME SCHOOL GOES TO THE BEACH. NEMESIO GETS INTO MISs- CHIBE PAGAEN: RR a eee etre XIII. THE CHOLERA EPIDEMIC. DOCTOR MURRAY DOES HIS BEST FOR JUAN . XIV. JOSE TAKES A LITTLE NAP AND GIVES LIEUTENANT ROBINSON INFORMA- TION .TOMHISU ADVANTAGE eet eee XV. THE DROWNED IDOLS. THE CAPTURE OF LUIS. ANITA ENTERS THE HOS- PITAL Het NO Ses See pea ee ee XVI. LITTLE AGNES IS TRANSPLANTED INTO THE GARDEN OF GoD. THE TYPHOON XVII. AFTER THE STORM. JOAQUIN TAKES A WIFEY eee 3 @ @ ¢ @ © © ¢ 6 @¢,. 6 © @ -@ 0./e 'e XVIII. ANITA, JOSE, AND CALIGULA FIND HAPPINESS. THE BEGGAR’S HOARD. THE GENERAL BLANCO LEAVES PORT PAGE 132 149 166 181 196 205 222 240 249 FRIENDS YOU ARE ABOUT TO MAKE ANITA, the little blind girl. Mr. and Mrs. WALLACE, missionaries at San Jacinto (Ha- sinto), P. I. AGNES, the Wallaces’ three-year-old daughter. DocTor and Mrs. Murray, in charge of the mission hospital at San Jacinto. ; MIss SHUBERT, in charge of the Home School at San Jacinto. Miss STEARNS, superintendent of the Nurses’ Training School. CALIGULA CRUM, principal of the High School. Miss BurRTON, teacher in the High School. JOSE (HoSAY) BUENAVENTURA, clerk in the Municipal Office, San Jacinto. DOLORES SANTECILLA (SANTESILYA), the new teacher from Manila. JOAQUIN (WHAKIN), Mrs. Wallace’s house boy. NEMESIO (NEMASEO), pupil in the Home School. TIMOTEO, in charge of the Boys’ Dormitory. LIEUTENANT ROBINSON, Chief of Constabulary. Socorro, CONCHING, and APPOLONIA, nurses at the hospital. MACAW, a Chinese merchant. REV. BRAULIO POBAR, pastor of the Evangelical Church. SERAFINA, daughter of Senor Pobar. SENoR MANUEL GREGORIO, builder of the church at San Jacinto. SENOR PEREZ, a Spanish gentleman. PERICOLA, a servant in the house of Senor Perez. LUIS, the leader of a robber band. DEACON TOMAS, father of Nemesio. CHAPTER I THE SUNDAY SING. JOAQUIN’S FEET GET HIM INTO TROUBLE SPLASH! splash! splatter! The screen-door of the little detached kitchen at the rear of the bungalow stood wide open, contrary to instructions, and Joaquin flung the dish-water (also contrary to instructions) far down the path and over the little garden-plot. “Good for the flowers,” he grunted to himself. “ Why should these Americans be so particular about little things? Dish-water down the sink, clean water for the garden. Why not smash two mosquitoes with one slap by pouring the dish-water where it will nourish the flowers? ”’ But Joaquin had failed to observe the silent ap- proach of a little ragged girl through the parting bushes, and he was suddenly assailed with shrill childish vituperation. ** Close relative of a pig! Why do you fling water upon me, and foul water, too?” scolded the child. “Ai, Ai,” said Joaquin, “but you should look where you are going and not run heedlessly into trouble.” “Look where I am going,” replied the child as she stretched her hand tentatively toward the rail bordering the path. ‘“ Oh, if I only could!” With this she turned full toward the open doorway where bE ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES Joaquin was standing, and he observed at once that the little face had that blank, sorrowful expression produced by sightless eyes. “ Abaw,” said Joaquin, “I know who you are. You must be little Anita, the blind girl, who runs with the beggar crowd.” With all Joaquin’s surface taciturnity his white cotton house-jacket covered a kind and sympathetic heart. Moreover, he was too much of a genuine democrat in spirit to feel himself at all superior to this little bundle of rags, most of whose waking hours were spent in the company of the beggar crew who made their regular mendicant visits from house to house through the town. “Wait a minute,” said he, “I have two fine ripe bananas.” Slam went the screen-door of the kitchen behind him, and in a moment he emerged with two fat, red bananas, one of which he handed to the little “Come,” said he, *‘ sit with me on the door-step. I’m sorry I threw the water on you. I did not see you. I have been washing all the cups and saucers and there were a great many of them. Sefiora is going to have all the Americans here tonight for what they call ‘the Sunday sing,’ and I was getting ready for it.” *What’s that?” inquired Anita. “Why, all the Americans in town come here Sun- day evenings and have a good time together. They sing a lot, and talk about all sorts of things. Then they drink chocolate, and eat hundreds and hun- dreds of sugar cookies, and go home.” [2] THE SUNDAY SING “What do they say?” asked the child, well-nigh breathless with interest. “TI can’t tell you very much about it, for they almost always talk in English, but I know they talk about the schools and the government and re- Higion and what to eat, and sometimes they talk about us.” “TI wish I could see them and hear the singing! ”’ exclaimed the little ragged child. Joaquin looked her up and down with an expres- sion of whimsical uncertainty. ‘“ Well,” said he; “Tm afraid you wouldn’t fit into the circle very well, but I’ll tell you what we will do. You shall hide in the big cupboard in the kitchen. It will only be an hour or so until they come, and when they have all gathered and are busy talking, you shall steal around the house to the front veranda and hide among the big pots of foliage plants. You will be able to hear everything there.” Mrs. Wallace stood on the veranda at the front of the house awaiting her guests. The evening breeze from the sea stirred the strands of curling brown hair about her forehead, and wandered away to the bamboo thicket at the side of the house where it played among the myriad delicate spear-shaped leaves. With the coming of dusk the intense heat of the day had given place to the refreshing coolness characterizing the Philippine night. It had been one of those intense flaming days which result when tropical sun and cloudless sky have repeated them- selves in burning succession for a period of weeks. It had brought, however, no cessation of labor. [3] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES Morning service, Sunday school, afternoon visit to a neighboring village, and now the evening gather- ing. A smile wreathed her lips, however, as she gazed out over the quiet town. The night was moon- less, but the multitude of tropical stars shed a soft radiance which made clearly distinguishable the familiar landmarks of the picture. The bungalow stood upon an eminence at the edge of the town. A broad, white ribbon of roadway led to the banks of the river which curved through the center of the picture. Upon the veranda within a very few feet of Mrs. Wallace crouched little Anita in the shadow of the great jardiniéres. Her whole being was absorbed in hearing, in her anxiety to lose no detail. At this moment the rasping scrape of iron tires on the sandy road was heard, and a horse-drawn carriage emerged from the darkness. It was San Jacinto’s only public equipage, a two-wheeled, buggy-topped carriage with heavy shafts curving at the end as though to hold up the diminutive pony which might rather be said to amble ahead of the vehicle than to draw it after him. The white-coated driver seemed to have serious misgivings as to how long the animal might feel inclined to continue progress, and accom- panied every step with the continuous encourage- ment of a throaty clicking and a forward motion of his heavy lips. The carriage stopped at the gate of the compound, and Mrs. Wallace met the first of her guests, Mr. and Mrs. Sylvester, the superinten- dent of schools and his wife, at the top of the flight of steps leading to the house. In a few moments Fa THE SUNDAY SING other guests arrived, until about twenty were assem- bled in the sala which occupied the center of the house and opened with large double doors upon the veranda. One of the rare privileges of the week was this opportunity for the little company of expatriates to meet in informal social intercourse. The ‘“ Sunday sing ’”’ was valued by all of them. It furnished an opportunity to discuss the events of the week and the latest news from America. Moreover it was the nearest approach to a formal Christian service in English which any of them had the opportunity of enjoying. Mr. Wallace was not himself musical, but he knew the value of hymns as an expression of Christian faith and valued these weekly opportunities of thus leading the thoughts of his fellow Americans to- ward God. He was already seated beside the little organ with a penciled list between his fingers ready to suggest the first number. “Does any one know whether Cal is coming to- night?” said Mr. Wallace. He was beginning to grow a little anxious, for Cal usually played for the gatherings, and he was beginning to fear that it would fall to the lot of Mrs. Wallace to pump the tunes out of the little organ. Caligula Crum was undeniably fat and perspired easily, but it was a less exhausting task for him than it would be for Mrs. Wallace at the close of a fatiguing day. “Here he is,’”? was the reply. And indeed it be- came sufficiently evident that Cal was on his way, for he could be heard warbling sentimentally but [5] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES musically along the road “Stars of the Summer Night,’ accompanied in a high tenor by a young Filipino, Alfredo, whom he had invited to the sing for the improvement of his English. The song was interrupted at the gate, and Alfredo and Cal ascended the steps together. It was Al- fredo’s good fortune that he was walking at Ca- ligula’s left, and in keeping with the malign star of the latter’s destiny that he should be on the side chosen for Anita’s hiding-place. Joaquin’s curiosity had finally gotten the better of his discretion, and he had stolen around the house and insinuated his bulky form between the potted plants by the side of little Anita, but failing to realize the length of his nether extremities and the magni- tude of his bare feet he had permitted the latter to protrude from the hiding-place, so that although still in the shadow of the doorway, they impeded free ingress. Hence Alfredo’s dignified entrance to the sala was accompanied by a somersault from his companion, and the ejaculation of ‘‘ Howly murther,”’ for Cal sometimes relapsed into his original Irish in moments of stress. Joaquin, for his part, rolled out into the light of the doorway, hugging one foot in his arms and uttering an emphatic Abaw which serves the Filipino for the expression of a great variety of emotions. * What’s all this? ” exclaimed Mr. Wallace, hasten- ing to the door and dragging to the light not only clumsy Joaquin still hugging his damaged foot, but also the shrinking little beggar child, who quailed like a frightened bird in his grasp. [6] THE SUNDAY SING Restored to his two feet, Joaquin began to explain in voluble Visayan how it happened that he and little Anita had been thus ambushed, while Mrs. Wallace soothed the fears of the frightened child. “Come, Anita,” said she. ‘‘ That’s your name, isn’t it? You shall sit by me in this little chair and listen to your heart’s content.”’ An expression of wonder mingled with the fear written upon the child’s face; wonder not only at the sound of her own language from the lips of a foreigner, but also at the kindness expressed in the tone. + NO; no)) no, she replied, “[°am’ afraid: of ‘all the Americans; let me hide in the dark. I am used to the dark.” “Why, she’s blind,” said Mrs. Wallace, turning’ the child’s face more fully to the light. ‘ Look, her eyes are covered with pale blue scars.” “I know who she is,” interjected Caligula, who by this time had recovered his equilibrium, and his dignity. ‘‘ She is the little blind girl whom one sees so often at the end of the bridge with the group of beggars.” “ Well, whoever she is, she shall stay and listen to the singing, and if she does not want to sit by me she shall hide among the plants, and we will put some soft cushions there for her to sit on.” Thus it came to pass that little Anita listened to the singing which followed as an acknowledged guest instead of a palpitating eavesdropper, and nothing was said when Joaquin threw himself down full length in the shadow beside her, taking the [E75] ~ ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES precaution to extend his lower limbs into the dark- ness behind the plants. “Now folks,” said Caligula, squeezing his knees beneath the diminutive keyboard of the little organ, “are you all ready? What shall it be? ‘ Rock of Ages,’ or ‘ My Darling Nelly Gray?’ You pays your money, and you takes your choice.” * Cal, old man,” replied Mr. Wallace, “if you can sufficiently repress your ardent spirits, we will start with ‘ Fling Out the Banner,’ and after that we will sing ‘Jesus, Lover of My Soul.’ You and Miss Burton will sing the duet, and we will join in the chorus.” “You’re the generalissimo,” responded Caligula and immediately broke into the stirring notes of the hymn first suggested. It detracted in no degree from the vigor and en- thusiasm of Cal’s leading that Mr. Wallace had suggested that he and Miss Burton sing the opening lines of the next number as a duet. Apart from the exquisite pleasure which he always derived from part singing with other trained voices, Cal had dis- covered a peculiar delight in singing’ with Miss Burton. Opportunities had been rare; once at a school concert, once before at the Sunday sing they had joined their voices, but Cal had recognized that the overtones of the two supplemented each other and blended to his utmost satisfaction. He did not yet realize that his particular approval of her voice and musical execution had extended itself to a gen- eral approval of her stature which was short, her eyes which were blue, her hair which was golden, [8] THE SUNDAY SING her bearing which was dignified, and the shape of her nose which was slightly tiptilted and at times expressive of scorn. The duet proved unction to Cal’s soul and was thoroughly appreciated by the entire audience. “Haven’t you something special to sing for us?” inquired one of the group, addressing Miss Burton. “Oh, I knew you would want her to sing,” said Mrs. Wallace, “ and I persuaded her to bring some music. After Mr. Wallace has read from the Scrip- ture I am sure she will be glad to sing for us.” In the back of the hymn-book were selected read- ings, and it was one of these which the missionary had chosen to read to the group, following it by a few words in which he spoke of the position of pecu- liar responsibility in which all those present were placed. “We are a little group of Americans,” he said, “away out here about eleven thousand miles from home. We represent the flag, the country, and American ideals in the midst of a people who are learning to look to us for moral and political gui- dance. Most of us are school-teachers or provincial officials and have peculiar responsibilities of our own, but there is one responsibility which is common to us all, and that is to show to the people among whom we are placed an example of Christian citizen- ship which will reflect credit on the country we rep- resent. The Filipino people are bright, alert, and able. They have just emerged from a long period of repression and are ready for leadership in an uncommon degree. America has accepted this re- [9 ] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES sponsibility, and our own special task has broader implications than the mere duty of the day.” Behind the green and red laurels on the veranda Joaquin had been carrying on a running comment on the gathering for the benefit of little Anita. “The long fellow is Mr. Wallace,” said he. “ He has a big, heavy jaw. “You have to jump when he speaks. But he is always good-natured. He teaches us the American game called baseball. You hit the ball with a stick and run like a wild water-buffalo.” “Ts he the man who talked a long time? ” “Yes, you see he’s a preacher. And he has very long legs. Once when he was preaching in the Prot- estant chapel his little girl Agnes climbed on the platform behind him, put her arms around his knees, poked her head through, and smiled at the people. Senora was shocked, but Mr. Wallace laughed and went right on preaching.” “Why he must be just like us,” interpolated Anita. “Yes, he’s a regular Filipino. The pudgy fellow who fell over my feet is the school-teacher, Mr. Crum. The other day when we played ball he fell down just at the end of a home run and rolled all the rest of the way.” “T thought you worked here.” “Oh, I do, but Sefiora sings a little song, “Work all the time, never play, Makes Joaquin a sour fellow.” “She must be very kind.” “ She certainly is, but she’s funny too. Queer how she objects to ants. The other day there were a few [ 10 | THE SUNDAY SING ants in the soup. She said it must all be thrown away. Oh yes, I threw it away. Ask Conching and Catalena and José.” The conversation about the room had suddenly stopped and Joaquin ceased his chatty comment too. Mr. Crum played a brief introduction, and Miss Burton’s rich contralto suddenly filled the room with melody. It was a simple solo setting of the “ Light of the World,” but the throbbing sweetness of it held them all in the thrall of its enchantment. The re- frain was repeated over and over again, softly and ever more softly, Once I was blind, but now I can see, The light of the world is Jesus. “What is it? What is she singing?” eagerly whispered Anita in Joaquin’s ear. “T can’t understand it all, but it talks about being blind and then being able to see.” “Oh, tell me about it, tell me about it,” said Anita. “It is the most beautiful song I have ever heard.” As Miss Burton completed the last verse of the song, Joaquin had caught the words sufficiently to interpret them for Anita. Once I was blind, but now I can see, The light of the world is Jesus. “Ah,” sighed the child, “I don’t know what it means, but it sounds good. ‘ Once I was blind, now I can see.’ Blind, blind. They know nothing about it, but I know, I know. I wonder what that means, ‘The light of the world is Jesus.’ ” [11] CHAPTER II JOSE AND THE IDOLS. CALIGULA CULTI- VATES ANITA’S ACQUAINTANCE AT the open window of a rather well-built house on Calle Tréce de Mayo sat a Filipino man of some thirty years of age chewing the cud of sad refiec- tion. His face and figure expressed the tenor of his reverie; his shoulders were bent and his brow was contracted, and every now and then he would rise and pace to the back of the room, returning to take his seat again at the window, muttering to himself the while, very strangely. “The Santiago is worth fully fifty pesos. I paid sixty to the carpenter who made it. And is it not in perfect repair? True, the nose is a trifle broken, but we do not value our saints for their beauty alone. “Then there is my Santa Maria. Last week Senior Perez offered me thirty pesos just for the mantilla of velvet and gold embroidery which I gave her when mother had cholera. | * Then there is the beautiful! image of Jesus. It is surely worth three hundred pesos. Ay! One can- not buy such workmanship nowadays. The faces are wooden and without expression. They put heart into their work in the old days. “Then the shrine; it has real glass and a border of gold. No one in San Jacinto has such a shrine. [ 12] JOSE AND THE IDOLS Altogether they are worth five hundred pesos. Per- haps I could get more. “ But the pastor says I must throw them away. Ay demi! I could do a great deal of good with five hundred pesos. It would enable me to offer a large subscription to the new chapel. “They will worship images anyway, and if I do not sell Senor Perez my image of Jesus, he will send to Paris, and perhaps not get nearly so large an image and one which will be of very much less holi- ness.” | At this point footsteps were heard on the stair- way. The newcomer was an elderly man with lined and wrinkled face. His skin was of a sallow brown color and upon the right side of the nose there was a deep cavity resulting from an attack of smallpox suffered many years previously. His coarse hair, originally black, now presented a large admixture of white, looking like a shoe-brush with alternate white and black bristles. The young man first introduced, whose name was José Buenaventura, was delighted to see his friend Perez, of whom he had just been thinking, and together they entered into a protracted course of question and counter-question, polite interest and deprecatory deference extending to the remotest ramification of each other’s family connection. One matter which was touched upon in the con- versation was of absorbing interest to José, albeit he did not allow himself to display too deep a con- cern. | “Have you heard,” inquired Senor Perez, “ that [ 13 ] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES there is a new teacher in the public school, sent from Manila to teach English to the children? Her name is Senorita Dolores Santecilla. “T was at the wharf,” he continued, ‘‘ when the Manila boat came up the river yesterday, and saw her disembark. She has the face of an angel, hair as deep as the night, and eyes like shining planets to light it. I shall certainly hope to cultivate her better acquaintance.” José was not especially pleased to hear such senti- ments from the lips of his friend Perez, for he him- self had encountered the young lady in question, shortly after her landing. He had been visiting in the house of the American pastor, Mr. Wallace, when she arrived, bringing a letter of introduction. Mr. Wallace had presented José to the new maestra, and the luminous eyes and raven hair which had proved too much for the im- pressionable heart of the Spaniard, Perez, had pro- duced also a profoundly disturbing effect on José’s peace of mind. Hence he responded shortly: “Yes, I have seen her,’ and rose to accompany sehor Perez, who was now about to leave, to the door. Having by this time, at least to his own satisfac- tion, conveyed the impression that his visit was prompted by no ulterior motive, Senhor Perez felt that it was time to broach the real object which had occasioned his call. “By the way, my friend,” said he, ‘‘ how about your image of Jesus? Have you decided upon a price?” [ 14 | JOSE AND THE IDOLS José had been awaiting this moment, being well versed in the native method of barter and trade. “T really do not know that I care to part with the image,” he replied. ‘* You see, it has been in the family so long. We are much attached to it. Then too, we are under so many obligations to it for help in difficulties. We are in sore need of money, how- ever, and our grief at parting with it might be partly compensated by the payment of three hundred and fifty pesos.” “Ay! That is a great pity,” replied Senor Perez. ““T have but two hundred and fifty pesos. It is all I have been able to raise by borrowing from the members of my family. I am afraid we shall have to continue praying to the little shabby image we have had so long that it is almost worn out.” Upon this Sefor Perez took his leave, followed by José’s “ Vaya con Dios,” fully satisfied that he could have the image for three hundred pesos whenever he cared to buy it, while José remained in the com- fortable assurance that here was a customer for the image for which he had no further use. José had but recently become convinced of the truth of the Protestant teaching and had learned to pray to the God who is worshiped in Spirit and in truth. It may seem singular to the reader that José should have contemplated the possibility of selling his images to others, but it must be borne in mind that he had been habituated through long custom to regard them with veneration, and knew that others still did so. Besides which, José was a man of experience and thrift and could not lightly make [15] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES up his mind to sacrifice so much negotiable property. Hence the struggle within his soul. As José lingered at the head of the stairway, re- sponding to his visitor’s last Adios, a slight, childish figure fluttered around the post of the door below and up the steps toward him. There was nothing uncertain in the gait of the little one, and yet the deft fingering of the banisters and the evident feel- ing for familiar landmarks, as she made her way swiftly upwards, might have told one that she was blind. From the street behind her came the shrill cries of a number of street children who had been tormenting her: “ Abaw, pobre! Imol! Yawa! Go and tell your Protestante confessor that the goat bucked you.” * Hallo, Anita,” called José from the upper story, as the child panted her way toward him. “ What’s the matter, little one? What have they been doing to my little blind pickaninny? ” The little girl threw herself into his protecting arms and told him that the children had set the goat upon her and persecuted her for coming to his house ~ and making a friend of a Protestante. “Why don’t they like you, José? They call you Protestante and devil, and say that the American pastor has taught you to poison wells, and yet you are so good to me and have fed me so many times when I have been hungry.” “Tt is like this, Anita,” responded José, “a long time ago, when the good Jesus, our Saviour, was here in the world, he was the friend of all those who were sick and sad and miserable. He fed many and [ 16 ] JOSE AND THE IDOLS many a hungry one, and made the lame walk, and even gave sight to those who were like you and could not see, dear little Anita. And yet the proud people hated him and called him Yawa (devil) and flung stones at him. There were only a few people who loved him, and he told them that they would surely be persecuted for his sake, and since that time, my little one, those who truly love Jesus and try to serve him have always suffered.” “How strange,” said the child, “ that they should call him such names and fling stones at him when he was so good and helped so many, even curing the blind. How I wish he could cure me!” she pas- sionately added. “Child, who knows but Jesus might make you better if we were to ask him; perhaps he has been waiting for you to tell him your need.” * T’ll tell him now, José.” No need for the little one to close her eyes. Clasped in José’s arms, she bowed her head and said: * Jesus, I am blind, and sometimes my eyes hurt very much. Please make them all right again, so that I can see Sefior José and all the flowers. Amen.” And then, “Do you think he will do it, José? ”” “We must trust him, little one. He never re- fused any one in the old days.” And thus, seated beside the window Sefior José repeated to the child stories of the divine, unchanging love and of him who laid his healing hand upon so many in those old days. suddenly Anita sat up straight in José’s lap and pd) ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES said: ‘‘ José, I believe you are telling me the very same story which Miss Burton sang about at Mr. Wallace’s house last night. Listen, José, it was a beautiful song. I'll sing it for you.” For a child Anita’s voice was singularly strong and pure. She had memorized the refrain quite accurately, and the sweet words and music rang in the rafters of the quiet room: Once I was blind, but now I can see, The light of the world is Jesus. ‘Who sings of Jesus? ” called an old cracked voice from beyond the partition. ‘“‘ Come, mother,” an- swered José, raising his voice, “‘ come and hear little Anita sing her new song.” The creaking of an old rocker was followed by a shuffling step in the next room, and a bent and wrinkled dame made her appearance at the entrance to the room. With the ready courtesy derived from his ancient Spanish forebears José rose at once, met her at the door and imprinted a kiss upon her hand. Little Anita who evidently entertained a deep affection for the old lady, followed his example and drew the wrinkled hand lovingly across her cheek. “Ah, child,” said the old lady when she was seated, “I am becoming almost as blind as you. Sing me the song about Jesus the light of the world.” Again the childish voice rendered the sweet re- frain. But apparently the mother’s attention had wan- dered. [ 18 | JOSE AND THE IDOLS “José,” she said, when Anita was silent, “‘ I over- heard your conversation with Senor Perez. Why did you not close the bargain with him? You know how much we need the money.” ** Mother,” he answered, “I have not yet been able to make up my mind to do it. The words on the wall of the chapel come to my mind constantly: ‘Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image. Thou shalt not bow down to them nor worship them.’ Shall I tempt Senor Perez to sin?” “My son, it would not be you, but his own evil heart and darkened mind.” “Yes, mother, I know the argument, and perhaps you are right, but I want to think about it further.” Anita had meantime been listening carefully to the noises from the street. Turning now to José she said: “ The children have all gone, I think. Can I go now?” “Yes, dear,” he replied, “‘ your persecutors have latte? Rapidly and unerringly she made her way down the stairway and out into the street, singing softly as she went the happy refrain of Miss Burton’s song. Passing the corner of the high school she brushed the coat of a passer-by in the other direction. “What is that?” said a surprised voice; “ what are you singing? ” It was Caligula Crum, principal of the high school, who was making his way home in the late afternoon. Anita stopped and turned to him. ‘“ You were at Mr. Wallace’s house. You fell over Joaquin’s feet and played the organ.” [ 19 ] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES “Yes, so I did,” said Caligula. ‘“‘ Clumsy, wasn’t it? I’m always doing something like that.” ~“T like you though,” answered Anita. ‘“‘ You are kind and good-natured, and always laughing. I think you are fat too, aren’t you? You sound fat.” Yes, I’m fat,” sorrowfully added Cal. ‘“‘ Nobody loves a: fat man.” “Oh yes, they do. I think I should love you if I knew you well enough.” “Would you? Well, let’s get acquainted right off.” “Why don’t you like to be fat? Our people love it. When Senorita Aldeguilla came out of the Amer- ican doctor’s hospital she got very fat, and all the handsome young ladies wanted to go there at once.” “You must have learned that song from Miss Burton.” “Yes, I love it, but I know only a little of it. 1 sang it to José, and he told me what it means.” “What did he say about it?” “He said that when Jesus was here he touched blind people’s eyes and made them see. I asked him=to7douthco me ' “Do you think he will?” “Yes, I do. There is a lot more to the song. José says some people’s hearts are blind too, and Jesus can make them see, but I don’t understand that very well, do you? ” “Why no, Anita. I can’t say that I do, although T ought to, for I used to hear that story over and over again when I was a child no older than you in the Sunday school.’’ “Can you teach me the rest of the song? ” [ 20 | JOSE AND THE IDOLS Caligula Crum was an astute young man and as ready as another to seize a good opportunity. “No,” said he, “ Il am afraid I do not know it well enough. But I tell you what, we will go and look up Miss Burton. I am sure she would be glad to teach it to you.” It was not a difficult task to find Miss Burton, for that little lady was at that very moment emerg- ing from the side door of the school building and came upon the two as they stood talking together. “Miss Burton,” said Caligula, happy to have any plausible reason for addressing her, “ you are just in the nick of time. This is the little blind girl whom we saw at Mrs. Wallace’s house last night. Her name is Anita. She was very much taken with the song you sang and wants you to teach it to her.” “Why, I should love to teach it to her. The dear little thing! Tell her to come right after school to- morrow morning, and we will go over it.” Caligula blessed his lucky star which had led him to learn sufficient of the native dialect to interpret this to the little girl for Miss Burton. Anita asked him to express her warmest thanks to the beautiful lady and to say to her that she would learn quickly. “Perhaps I might come and learn it also,” he added in transmitting the message of the child. “‘T should judge that your repertoire was already sufficiently extensive,” replied Miss Burton with just the least possible upward tilt to the member already mentioned. [21] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES “ Squelched again,” groaned Caligula, and began to hum under his breath: My girl’s a high-born lady. Miss Burton placed her hand under Anita’s chin, turned her face to the light, and looked thoughtfully into her eyes. ““T wonder,’ she ruminated, ‘‘ whether they are quite hopeless. She seems to be able to see the light. See how they react to the bright sun.” Then turning to Caligula, she said: ‘‘ Tell her that there is a good American doctor here who has come to San Jacinto on purpose to try to make sick people well. Tell her that I will take her to see him tomorrow.” The effect which this produced upon the child was electric. She sprang to Miss Burton’s side, tears filled her scarred eyes, and with trembling voice she said as she grasped the young woman’s sleeve: “It is the answer to my prayer. He will cure me. IT know he will cure me.” “Hush, hush,”’ said Miss Burton, “ you must not be too sure about it. But come tomorrow, and we will go to see the doctor.” Caligula, the preux chevalier, nothing daunted by past mishaps, was ready again with the suggestion, “Don’t you think I had better bring her to you, Miss Burton, and then I can help to find the dis- pensary.” Inasmuch as the dispensary was upon the mis- sion compound, and it would have been difficult for a blind idiot to miss it at midnight, perhaps Miss [ 22 | JOSE AND THE IDOLS Burton may be forgiven for rebuffing Caligula’s excess of zeal by replying: “Oh, we shall surely find it all right, Mr. Crum. I do not think we shall need to trouble you.” How- ever, she softened the blow with a smile, and Cal went upon his way lugubriously whistling to himself, Oh why should the spirit of mortal be sad? The fat and happy seem to be the recipients of heaven’s special favor. It chanced later in the after- noon that Cal fell in with Doctor Murray, the mis- sion doctor. The latter was visiting a patient in the house adjacent to the home where Cal had his lodging. The broad windows were flung wide in the rear room of the upper story where Cal was preparing for a walk before dinner. Across the narrow alley which separated the two houses similar windows closed tightly hid the interior of the cham- ber where the doctor’s patient was confined. Sud- denly Cal’s attention was arrested by the grind of the heavy oyster-shell windows on the grooves in which they ran, and as the sash was pushed back the sound of Doctor Murray’s voice came to him from within: “Fling them open. Let in the light. Give the patient air.” * But, doctor, the evening air will kill him.” “No, no, nothing better. Just what he needs. Keep the window open night and day. Except when it rains.” * But there is another thing,” the other voice went on, “the aswang (spirits) will enter and injure him.” [23 ] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES “Nonsense. He is suffering from lack of fresh air and light. Give him this medicine and let him breathe deeply. He will get well in a week.” At this moment the doctor caught sight of Cal whose curiosity had brought him to the adjacent window. “Hallo, Cal,” said he, ‘‘ why don’t you make these neighbors of yours keep their windows open? This lad here needs fresh air and sunshine.” * Righto, Murray my lad. I’ll see that he gets it after this.” By the way, Cal,’ continued Murray, “I am planning to enlarge my dispensary. ‘The patients are crowding me out. Come down tomorrow morn- ing after school and give me the benefit of your wisdom about the new plans, won’t you?” Would he? Oh boy! Did ever the stars in their courses fight for their favorite as at present? Cal’s reply to Doctor Murray was characterized by such enthusiasm as to evoke some surprise in the latter’s mind, especially when Cal insisted upon twining his legs around the leg of the great four-poster by the window, and leaning far out over the alley. Thus anchored he was able to clasp the doctor’s extended hand over the chasm, much to the amazement of the patient and his relatives. A light dawned upon Doctor Murray the following morning after the two had gone carefully over the plans for the rearrangement of the dispensary. They were standing in front of the dispensary door when Miss Burton appeared leading by the hand little Anita. [ 24 ] JOSE AND THE IDOLS “ Ho-ho, my lad,” said Doctor Murray, turning to Caligula, ‘‘ I think I understand your enthusiasm yesterday when I asked you to come to the dis- pensary this morning. You evidently had advance information as to probable visitors.”’ “ Doctor Murray,” began Miss Burton, “I have brought you a little patient. I do not know whether you will be able to do anything for her, but it is such a pitiful case that I thought I ought at least to ask you to look at little Anita’s eyes.” “T am glad you brought her to see me, Miss Burton,” replied the doctor. “‘ The case may be quite hopeless. These cases of congenital blindness usu- ally are, but I will do my best.” So saying, he led the way into the consulting-room, placed little Anita upon a chair opposite to himself, and began a care- ful scrutiny of the child’s eyes while Cal and Miss Burton looked on with interest and suspense. There was silence for a brief space while the doctor everted the child’s lids and examined the pupils. “This is no common case,” he said finally. “I do not believe this child was born blind. I am going to ask her about it.” Turning again to the little one, he said in Visayan, * Anita, you were not always blind, were you?” “No,” replied the child, ‘‘ long ago I used to be able to see just as well as you can. Then my eyes became sick and hurt terribly, and by and by I could not see any more.” “See,” said the doctor turning to Cal and Miss Burton, “ scars on the mucous membrane, distortion [25 ] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES of the lids, opacity of the cornea extending over both pupils. Of course, she can’t see, but she cer- tainly has perception of light.” “What made your eyes sick? ”’ The child’s face suddenly became the picture of mortal terror. “ Oh,” said she, ‘don’t ask me. I must not tell you. I must not tell you.” Tears coursed down her cheeks, and she turned her head from side to side as though seeking opportunity for flight. “There, there,” said the doctor, “‘ we will say no more about it. Don’t cry, little girl. Forget the pain which you suffered so long ago, and we will see what can be done for the future.” “Is the case quite hopeless?” inquired Miss Burton softly. “Perhaps not,’ replied the doctor pondering. “There is still a certain area of clear cornea. It is possible that a slight operation might help her, and gradually the growth of the eye may shift the scar so that it does not so completely cover the pupil.” *Won’t you take her into the hospital and do what you can for her, doctor?” said Caligula. “I should be glad to help with the expense.” “TI will certainly do what I can for her. But I cannot take her in just now. The hospital is full, and besides there is a certain amount of irritation and inflammation still present. I shall need to treat the eye and get it into better condition before operat- ing.” The ebullient Caligula expressed his satisfaction [ 26 | JOSE AND THE IDOLS by seizing the little girl, hoisting her to his shoulders, saying, ‘“‘ Cheer-o, chicken, there is hope,” and break- ing into song, Oh let us be joyful, joyful, joyful. “That will be about enough, Cal,’ remonstrated the doctor. ‘‘ This is my busy day and you’ll frighten the patients. Didn’t you see that great mob waiting outside in the anteroom’? Good day, Miss Burton. Thank you for bringing Anita to me. It was like your kind heart to think of it.” : [ 27 | CHAPTER III MRS. WALLACE SERVES TEA. THE BOYS’ DORMITORY MRs. WALLACE was serving afternoon tea. The oc- casion furnished an opportunity to meet many of the bright young men and women of the high school who were making rapid progress in English and enjoyed using’ it. A dozen or more of them had already gathered. Felipe and Domingo were passing the cups and prac- tising their English, not only on Mrs. Wallace, but also on each other. Their minor errors detracted in no way from the intelligibility of their language, but furnished a good deal of amusement. “Miss Anastasia,” said Felipe, balancing the tray precariously upon his hand, “shall you take some tea?” “Thank you very much, Mr. Felipe, I not take any. I think it shall keep me awake.’”’ “Mr. Alberto, will you tea?” “With much pleasure. I will take also Miss Anas- tasia’s cup. My sleeper work too severely already. I wish to be wide-awake person.” “Look at the lovely birds on this cup. This bird, he come from Japan. He have very long leg. His name is stork.” “Look out for my lovely china!” cried Mrs. Wal- lace, for Felipe had been performing artistic evolu- [ 28 ] MRS. WALLACE SERVES TEA tions with the tray, thus placing in jeopardy the beautiful egg-shell china which she had conveyed with such care from Japan. “There are only a few of those cups and saucers left out of a dozen,’ continued Mrs. Wallace. “When we were in the hotel at Yokohama Mr. Wal- lace undertook to pack them for me. He had placed them carefully on the floor beside the trunk and in reaching for something to wrap around them he stepped back into the set, smashing five cups and four saucers. I do not think he has entirely recov- ered from the shock yet.” Hardly had she finished speaking when crash went the tray and its contents, and Felipe, relapsing into Visayan, uttered a dismayed ‘‘ Abaw! ”’ ““ Save the pieces,” ejaculated Mr. Wallace, enter- ing the sala at that moment. ‘ Who is breaking up housekeeping’? ” “Just what I feared might happen,” answered Mrs. Wallace as she joined Felipe and Domingo in picking up the broken pieces. “ Never mind, Felipe, you did not cause such havoc as Mr. Wallace. Only one saucer is broken, and that makes the cups and saucers even again.” The kindness of the hostess moderated Felipe’s chagrin, and he continued the task of passing the teacups with a manifest determination not to permit a similar mishap to occur. Caligula Crum was the first of the Americans to arrive. He took his seat beside Mr. Wallace and greeted Felipe enthusiastically. “ What, ho, servitor, bring on the nectar.” [29 | ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES “You should not joke, Mr. Crum,” said Felipe, firmly grasping the tray with both hands. “I have already encountered one catastrophe and do not wish to make acquaintance of more serious accident.” Felipe’s English was painful but elaborate. He had a natural gift of speech and was rapidly acquiring a broad vocabulary. A gentle rain which had begun the evening before had developed during the previous night into a heavy downpour. It was very welcome and somewhat un- expected as the heavy rains had ended some weeks before, and it was but seldom that a rain of any con- sequence came after the close of the rainy season. Fortunately it had ceased early in the afternoon. The rain-storm now furnished Mr. Wallace with a topic of conversation. “T want you young people to see my new cistern,” he said. ‘There is no well on the compound, and we were in a good deal of a quandary as to what to do for water. Six weeks ago, at the close of the rainy season, we had only the comparatively small quantity contained in our galvanized iron tanks.” “We were in the same fix,” interjected Caligula, “the family where I live had almost exhausted the water in their tanks when it began to rain last night. It is a godsend.” “ At the same time,” said one of the quieter of the young men who up to this time had remained silent, “we have buyed our water. It has costed twenty centavos a pail.” “Well,” continued Mr. Wallace, “I determined not to be caught again in such a predicament, and I have [ 30 | MRS. WALLACE SERVES TEA been building a cistern. Simon, the cement man, did the work for me. It was quite a task, for he had never before undertaken such a large piece of work.” “Where have you made the cistern?” inquired Felipe. “It is out back of the kitchen. You know the hill upon which the house stands is almost entirely rock. But fortunately it is a loose-fibered rock which is easily excavated. We dug down about eight feet below the surface, using dynamite once or twice to loosen the rock.” “But aren’t you afraid that the water will run away?” “No, because the cistern is well lined. Simon is a pretty good carpenter, and he made arched forms and carried the walls about five feet above the sur- face. We reenforced the sides and roof with iron rods and filled in concrete so as to make a flat top.” Little Agnes, the three-year-old daughter of the house, had been playing with her dolls’ house on the floor by Mrs. Wallace’s chair, but a few moments before had slipped out of the sala and through the dining-room to the rear of the house. Just as Mr. Wallace finished speaking her silvery laugh rang out, and at the same time there came an unspeakable hullaballoo from the direction of the kitchen. Deep, reverberating shouts, hollow laughter, stentorian halloos, and shrill shrieks rent the air. It sounded like pandemonium let loose. Crum and Wallace bounded from their chairs and followed by the group of students hastened through the dining-room and kitchen. There upon the roof of the newly con- [ 31 ] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES structed cistern they observed little Agnes leaning over the cement parapet which protected the mouth of the cistern, laughing heartily and stamping her little foot with glee. “Come, see,” She said, “‘ Joaquin swim.” Mingled shouts and splashings proceeded from the cistern, these sounds reenforced and magnified by the confined space in which they were produced. Mr. Crum was the first to diagnose the difficulty. Standing beside little Agnes, he thrust his head into the mouth of the cistern, and in a moment his hearty laugh augmented the uproar. “Three of them,” he shouted, “ having a swim. How I should like to join them. All in your lovely cistern.” The case presented another aspect to Mr. Wallace, however, and replacing Crum at the mouth of the cistern, he sent a stern command in vigorous Visayan down into its depths. Sudden silence ensued and then three dripping forms emerged, clad only in the meagerest of native bathing costumes about the waist. Joaquin, the arch sinner, was the first, and following him came Do- nato, the muchacho from the house of Doctor Mur- ray, and Eustaquio, who drove the calesa in which the doctor made his rounds. Lined up in a row upon the edge of the cement cistern they presented a sorry spectacle to the hila- rious shouts of the student group. “ Joaquin,” sternly said Mr. Wallace, ‘‘ what does this mean? ” “We were doing our best, Sefior.” [ 32 ] MRS. WALLACE SERVES TEA “Doing your best? What do you mean?” “Did you not say that when the rain came you would want to clean the cistern? Well, I tried to do it for you, and got Donato and Eustaquio to help me.” “Do you think the cleanliness of the cistern has been added to by three great lads like you bathing in _ the water?” was Mr. Wallace’s exasperated inquiry. “But, Senor, we were wiping the roof with a piece of cloth, and we had to swim because the water was so deep. I am afraid we made a little noise, but that was because we were trying to see who could stand up straightest in the water and reach the roof first.” “Don’t you realize that you have made the water unfit to drink? ” “Why, Senor, we washed our hands and face be- fore going in. You know, Sefora always insists on my doing so before cooking.” “Well, Joaquin, you ought to have known better, and I shall have to teach you a lesson,” said Mr. Wallace. Turning to the group behind him, added, “Tell us, boys, what shall be the punishment? ” “Make him drink the entire contents of the cis- tern,” said Caligula. “No,” said Domingo, “ but the three boys shall pull up pails of water until the cistern is empty, and then shall wash clean its walls.” The boys had reason to remember the lesson, for it was long be- fore the cistern was emptied and cleansed. Not least among the attractions of the mission compound was its tennis-court, the only one in San Jacinto. Indeed, there was no other in the entire [ 33 | ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES province. It was situated on the lowest part of the mission compound, behind the hospital. The west- ern side was bordered by a beautiful row of bam- boos, growing in massive clumps. As the sun declined toward the close of the after- noon the bamboo thicket threw a grateful shade over the tennis-court, the-delicate tracery of the fronded heads dappling the sunlit sward beyond the court. Miss Burton, who had arrived during the excitement occasioned by the discovery of boys in the cistern, accompanied Mrs. Wallace and Mr. Crum to the court. The two teachers had come prepared for the game, and Mr. Crum was weil satisfied that fate awarded him Miss Burton for a partner, while Felipe had the pleasure of practising his tennis terms in company with their hostess. In the meantime Mr. Wallace had turned off at the hospital door to hunt for Doctor Murray. The latter was to accompany him to the boys’ dormitory, and as he had not put in an appearance at tea it oc- curred to Mr. Wallace that some serious case might have detained him. He found the doctor in the little laboratory in the lower story of the hospital bending over the micro- scope. “Wallace,” said he, so absorbed in his task as hardly to respond to the other’s greeting, “has it ever occurred to you that we may be in for a pretty serious time if cholera gets started in this province. They have had quite a bit of it over in Tablas, and I have seen several cases lately which seemed mighty suspicious to me.” [ 34 | MRS. WALLACE SERVES TEA “T had not supposed that we were in any danger of it,” replied Wallace. ‘“‘ Haven’t the new sanitary measures succeeded in getting it pretty well under control in the Islands?” “A good deal of progress has certainly been made, and the young men who are coming from the Uni- versity Medical College in Manila lately take most readily to sanitation. But the trouble is there is a lack of trained helpers to combat the epidemic when it gets started.” “ Do you fear any immediate trouble in that direc- tion? ”’ “No. Fortunately the rain came last night. It will be a great help. The wells were getting pretty low, and a long continued dry spell would have been unfavorable.” “Can you leave your laboratory work now? It is time for the Bible class at the dormitory.” “Yes. I will put away the microscope and be right with you.” “By the way, Wallace, I asked José Buenaventura to join us at the dormitory. He is a little older than the high school boys, but he is greatly interested in the Bible.”’ “T’m glad you did that, Murray. José impresses me very favorably. He is having a severe struggle about those images of his.” “ What do you refer to? The old saints which the family used to worship? ” “Ves, Perhaps you may know that his aunt who died recently was a very ardent Romanist. She had an unusual collection of images. Some of them were [35 ] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES quite costly. They were imported from Spain and Paris in days prior to the American occupation.” “TI suppose it is a good deal of a struggle for him to give them up.” “It isn’t that so much. José is soundly converted and knows well the futility of image-worship. But he has a naturally thrifty soul. Gets it from his mother. They cannot help thinking about the cost of the images. José hesitates to destroy so much valuable property.” During the conversation the two friends had left the hospital and were making their way toward the center of the town. As they approached the better part of the town the huts gave way to more sub- stantial dwellings. It was one of these which had been hired by Mr. Wallace and transformed into a boys’ dormitory. It was a building constructed fifty or more years ago in the old Spanish style. The lower story was of stone, while the upper story was built about a hardwood frame supported by mas- sive hardwood tree-trunks roughly hewn and joined by great joists which were mortised into them. It was an unusually extensive building, more than a hundred feet in length. Besides the great hall there were two very large bedrooms, a dining-room, and several smaller chambers. The kitchen was a sepa- rate structure at the rear of the second story and was united to the main building by a short bridge. The building had lent itself admirably to the use designed for it by Mr. Wallace. He had very soon recognized the great need existing among the boys and young men attending the provincial high and [ 36 ] MRS. WALLACE SERVES TEA normal schools for a proper home. At San Jacinto was the only high school in the province, and in con- nection with it was conducted a normal school. More than two hundred young men came from the gram- mar schools in the larger towns each year to enter the higher schools of San Jacinto. Those who pos- sessed relatives in the capital were fortunate, but many of them found it necessary to fend for them- selves, and to these the dormitory opened by the Mission was a godsend. It was conducted on very simple lines. The boys slept on canvas army cots, a quite sufficiently com- fortable bed to those accustomed to sleeping on the native bamboo cot. Each one cared for his own bed. A native cook was employed, and a boy to clean the house. The furniture was sufficient but not elab- orate. There were comfortable chairs and tables at which the boys studied at night. Mr. Wallace was able to provide this entertainment at such a moder- ate price that even the poorer boys could enter the dormitory. The sum of ten pesos ($5.00 gold) per month defrayed the entire expense of board and lodging, and the dormitory proved to be a self-sup- porting enterprise. The real values of the institution were that it kept the boys from evil companions, provided them with pleasant comradeship, wholesome food, and hygienic surroundings. In addition Mr. Wallace found it possible by means of the dormitory to enter heartily and intimately into the life of the students and bring to bear the vigor of his own Christian personality upon them at their most impressionable [ 37] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES period. The qualities of manhood possessed by the Christian leader were such as to fit him eminently to mold the lives of these young men. He had been a leader in America during his college days. There was a fine vein of simplicity and earnestness united to a frank, ingenuous good comradeship about him that made him their friend at once, and many a young man owed his salvation from moral ship- wreck and his development in a decided and vigor- ous Christianity to this man who in his modest and winning manner was making himself the friend of them all. Hardly had the footfall of the two friends echoed in the great vacant stone-paved storeroom below than there came shouts of welcome from above, and a group of the boys appeared at the head of the stately stairway leading to the upper story. There was a note of comradeship in the greeting: “ Halloa, Mr. Wallace. Halloa, Doctor Murray. Come on up.” “We are all ready for you. The table is arranged, and the boys have all returned from school.” ““ Halloa, boys,’”’ responded Mr. Wallace. ‘‘ How is the ball-ground getting along?’”’ He was an athlete and ball-player himself, and was genuinely inter- ested in the work of preparing an old rice-field on the outskirts of the town for use as a ball-ground. “Tt is getting along fine,” replied one of the boys. “We have leveled it and taken out the rocks. To- day we had Sehor Buenaventura’s water-bufialoes drag the roller over it.” The Bible class was to be held about a long table [ 38 ] MRS. WALLACE SERVES TEA in the sala. The boys gathered around the table with Bibles—Visayan, Spanish, and English. Sev- eral of them had come from families where Spanish was spoken; all spoke Visayan as their mother tongue. Their knowledge of English varied consid- erably, according to the length of time they had been under instruction and their individual ability as linguists. Coming, as most of them had, from Catholic homes, it might have been supposed that there would be considerable reluctance upon their part to join in evangelical services and the study of the Bible. The contrary, however, was the case. The trend of events during the previous decade or two in the Philippines had tended to weaken the hold of the Church upon both young and old. The oppression of the friars had been deeply resented, the growth of the schismatic body inaugurated by Bishop Agli- pay had prepared the minds of many to harbor questions which would formerly never have entered the range of their thinking. José Rizal, the great Philippine hero who ranks in their estimation beside Washington, had openly criticized and ridiculed the practises of the Roman Church in his great novel, Noli Me Tangere,” and had incurred martyrdom at the hands of the friars for his temerity. The lads approached the Bible therefore with open minds and some degree of curiosity, for many of them had been told by the priests that the Prot- estant Bible was a wicked book which would lead them astray. There was a reverent bowing of every head as [ 39 | ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES Doctor Murray at the request of Mr. Wallace opened the little gathering by prayer. Mr. Wallace then made a brief statement of the purpose of the meet- ing for the benefit of several new members, after which they proceeded with the lesson. “ Boys,” said he, “last week I asked you to bring me your idea of what the church really is. The church has had a tremendous influence upon the course of the world’s history. Here in the Philip- pines it has absolutely dominated the social order in the past. Give me, if you can, a true definition of the church.”’ | In making the suggestion the previous week the leader had hardly hoped to elicit a very intelligent response, but he had thought that the question would at least tend to introduce a subject of profit. What was his surprise, therefore, when the young men demonstrated a remarkably keen interest in the mat- ter and were prepared with definitions showing a surprisingly clear understanding of the question. José Albay was the first to present his definition: “The church,” he said, “is a group of those who though separated are one in aim.” “Well, José,” responded the leader, ‘‘ you have the glimmerings of an idea there, but your definition is not very comprehensive. Let us see if we cannot improve upon it. What have you got to say about it, Severin? ” The young man addressed was one of the new- comers. He answered without hesitation, “ The church is the place where you go to mass and con- fession.” [ 40 ] MRS. WALLACE SERVES TEA Severin had recently come to the capital and had been for such a short time under evangelical in- fluence as to be but little affected by it. “Ts that all you hear at church, boys?” inquired Mr. Wallace. “No,” replied the lad at the end of the table. “The priest preaches sometimes.”’ “What does he preach about?” “On the days of the various patron saints he preaches on the life of the particular saint who is being Ronee that day.” “Yes,” put in Severin, “ last week they pelehrated the fiesta of the Santo Nino in the town where I live. They had a fine procession and a band, and the Padre preached on the miracles which our patron the Holy Child had performed.” “Well,” said the leader, ‘‘ what have the rest of you to say about it? Timoteo, what is your defini- cI DU The young man just addressed had been in the dormitory from the beginning of the work and had displayed a great deal of real interest in these in- formal discussions. He was now acting as manager of the dormitory. “The church,” said he, “is the congregation of faithful men in which the pure word of the Lord is preached.” ‘Where did you get that definition, Timoteo? ” in- quired Doctor Murray. “T don’t know, Doctor. I suppose I must have gotten it from going to the services in the chapel. I have been listening to what was said, and it seemed Bat ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES to me that the preaching was very much like the words of the Lord which we find in the New Testa- ment.” Still another definition was presented before the close of the service. A young man by the name of Juan Advincula, a retiring lad with keen intellec- tual face and high forehead, diffidently ventured: “The church is a place where men gather to hear the words of Jesus Christ and to follow them.” “T think,” concluded Mr. Wallace, “ that Juan’s definition sums the matter up as accurately as pos- sible, for the very essence of Christian discipleship is hearing and doing.” The conversation about the table had been carried on in a mixture of English, Spanish, and Visayan although the boys had tried for the most part to express themselves in the first-named language and indeed, with no small measure of success, for the Filipino has a gift for languages. Senor José Buenaventura had taken little part in the discussion at the table, but had followed it with absorbed interest. Occasionally the lads, who re- tained a sincere respect for one who could use Span- ish fluently, had turned to him for a Spanish render- ing of some point at issue. His English was less ready, but he had been able to grasp most of what had been said. The comparison of meanings and interpretations in the different texts added both to the interest and the profit of the group study, for where the English might not readily be grasped in its archaic form, the Spanish often proved illuminat- ing, and the boys displayed an unflagging interest [ 42 | MRS. WALLACE SERVES TEA in the rugged Visayan phrasing of the colloquial New Testament but recently translated. Toward the close of the lesson, however, José’s attention had seemed to wander somewhat, and he might have been observed to consult his watch under cover of the margin of the table. When the books were closed he sauntered casually to the broad win- dows which overlooked the street and cast his eyes toward the great bridge which continued the high- way over the river. Whether there was any element of expectancy in José’s actions may be left to the conjecture of the reader, but certain it is that in a moment he quietly approached Mr. Wallace and whispered a few words in his ear, whereupon the latter made an announce- ment to the group of young men: “Fellows, I have asked the new maestra from Manila, Miss Dolores Santecilla, to help us in prep- aration for the dormitory concert. Miss Santecilla is an accomplished pianist and is accustomed to drilling choruses.” It was perhaps pure malice which led him to add, much to José’s confusion, “‘ José tells me she is just coming over the bridge and will be here in a mo- ment.”’ Freed from the restraint of the meeting the stu- dents had broken up into smaller groups and were already making tentative efforts at the college songs which they were learning for the concert, so that when Dolores ascended the staircase to the upper story she was greeted with the confused hubbub of mingling tongues. Snatches of song, light laughter, [ 43 | ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES and youthful badinage gave an air of cheer and good fellowship which was a true index to the affec- tion which the dormitory lads entertained for their home and those who made it possible. As Miss Santecilla entered the room there was an immediate and respectful cessation of the merry tumult, and Doctor Wallace presented her to the group. ** Boys,” said he, “ this is Miss Santecilla who has just come from Manila to have charge of the school in the barrio this side of the river. This is her first visit here. She is a stranger in a strange land, but I am sure you will all help to make her feel at home. She has kindly consented to help us with the con- cert.” José Buenaventura responded for the boys in stately Spanish, welcoming Miss Santecilla to San Jacinto and assuring her of their desire to be of service to her and to render her stay in San Jacinto agreeable. Dolores was ready with a suitable reply which proved her mastery of the beautiful Castilian speech, but broke at once into English, which she spoke with a clear and precise intonation and with an accent peculiarly agreeable and winning. The piano, for the dormitory boasted such an in- strument, was specially constructed for tropical climates. It had been purchased in Hong Kong and had a frame guaranteed to withstand the sever- ities of extreme temperatures and high humidity. Inasmuch as it stood in the dormitory sala by grace of its owner, one of the leaders in the evangelical iad MRS. WALLACE SERVES TEA movement who had loaned it to the Mission, one should not be unduly critical of its quality. Dolores proved herself at once a maestra of the piano as well as in other respects, for seated at the keyboard she rendered song after song with both accuracy and taste. A student double male quartette was to take part in the concert. After having profited by Miss Sante- cilla’s helpful criticism and aid in the more serious selections which they were to render, there arose some considerable discussion as to the choice of selections for encores. José ventured to suggest something in the line of the sentimental and tender. Perhaps his frame of mind affected his judgment, but the general opinion of the students favored one or other of the humor- ous college songs. The Filipino might well be called the American of the East. His quick perception and ready adapt- ability assimilates more clearly to the American type than do the characteristics of any other Eastern people. He readily accepts new ideas, is prepared to employ new methods and to improve upon old ones. Besides this he has the American sense of humor and is prepared to join heartily in every type of American sport and amusement. Hence the col- lege songs brought by the teachers from America appealed in an unusual manner to the boys. Miss Dolores was able to join and even lead in the hilarity. [ 45 |] CHAPTER IV ANITA GOES TO SCHOOL. THE BEGGAR’S TRADE. CALIGULA INTERVENES THE school of which Dolores was principal was situated in the river barrio. Only the earlier grades were taught in this school. The barrio was a turbu- lent one, and much difficulty had been experienced by the authorities in organizing it to their satis- faction. It was for this reason that the Provincial Superintendent had written recently to Manila for a specially trained young woman to take charge of it. The school was held in a stone building in the center of the barrio having three rooms. There were two associate teachers besides the principal. Anita had never been to school before, but today the municipal officer to whom had been assigned the unwelcome task of stimulating the attendance at the school over which Dolores presided, had found her wandering in the street and had decided that her education ought no longer to be neglected. This was the first time Dolores had met blind Anita, and her heart instantly went out to the help- less little one. She led her gently to a seat and in- quired kindly as to her name and friends. Anita sat wearily upon the hard seat during the two-hour session which completed the morning tasks, amazed at the vast learning displayed by her more fortunate sisters. [ 46 | ANITA GOES TO SCHOOL The session over, the boys and girls filed out and Anita was left alone, not knowing which way to go. Dolores sat down by her side and commenced to question her kindly: “Where do you live, little one?” * On the outskirts of the barrio.” * What do they call you? ”’ “My name is Anita.” * Anita what? ”’ “Now that I am blind they sometimes call me ‘ Anita, the blind girl.’ ” . ““ Have you no one to care for you, child? ” “There is grandmother, but she was very angry this morning, and was going to whip me, and I ran away; then the man found me and brought me here.”’ “ Doesn’t your grandmother love you?” “Abaw! No. A long time ago, before I was blind she used to beat me dreadfully, but now I bring her more money, and she does not do it so much.”’ “How long have you been blind?” “Oh, I don’t know. Many years I think. A very long time.” “How did you become blind? ” “ Ah, I mustn’t tell; don’t ask me,” cried the child. Into her face came a look of strange terror as though she were recalling some dreadful experience. “Well, you have not always been blind?” ques- tioned Dolores. “Oh no, and at first it was very dreadful. It was always night, and the dark was cold, and often my eyes hurt so that I could not cry, and I just [47 | ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES had to cry inside, and it was terrible, worse than the crying when grandmother beat me—but I must not tell you about it. I must go away quick, or she will catch me and beat me again.” And the child rose from the seat and groped for the wall. Dolores gently led her to the door, and telling her to come on the morrow, said good-by. On the street without, the child seemed to find familiar surroundings, and darted off down a side street until she came to a little shop having an open front, with palings running half-way up to protect the goods. It was the Chinese bakery, and inside the door stood a portly Chinaman presiding over the sales. His honorable name was Li Chong Hwe, but he was commonly called Macaw, that being the only intelligible word upon his sign-board and in reality standing for his native town. Beneath his yellow features old Li harbored a warm heart, and as the little one was hurrying by, he called to her, ‘‘ Anita, Anita.” “ Abaw! Macaw!” she answered, “is that you?” “You plenty lun. What for, little girl? ” he asked. “Half the day has gone, Macaw, and I haven’t any coppers to take to grandmother; she will beat me and not give me anything to eat.” “Maybe you hungly, pickaninny; you eat this,” and Macaw handed out a large roll to the little girl. It was hard and dry and had not been properly raised, but was eagerly seized by the child. “Thank you, Macaw; the Holy Maria and José be good to you,” she answered, and hurried along to- ward the bridge. [ 48 ] ANITA GOES TO SCHOOL When she came to the end of the bridge, Anita took her place on the ground among a number of beggars in various stages of decrepitude and dis- ease. There was a little grass-plot beside the river and there seemed to be some unwonted excitement there just now, for a crowd had gathered and an American officer was looking on with pity in his eyes. Two men had come with a straw litter hung upon a bamboo pole, and were raising from the ground a thin, gaunt, meager figure. The legs were stiffened upon the body, and it was impossible to straighten them out. It seemed that during the morning David had died. Ah well! He had been long coming to it; for months he had begged beside her, and the pains and aches he had suffered had often made her cry. Perhaps he was feeling better now. The American had turned away from the sight and was about to go over the bridge. Now was the time; and from all the mendicant company arose the whining, wailing cry: “Ako, imol, bulag ako; for the mercy of Christ, for the sorrows of the blessed Virgin, for the love of all the holy saints, give us alms.” None of them thought upon what they were saying. It was the old, old cry which they had had upon their lips from childhood, to which their parents had brought them up, and the wail and entreaty of it were born and bred in their blood. Anita was the only silent one among them, but the pitiful sadness of her face was a constant appeal, and as the American went over the bridge, he put a coin in her hand. be ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES Immediately a snarl and growl went up from the remainder of the company. “Tt is always that little brat who is lucky.” “No wonder her grandmother can sit around at home in idleness.” “Why should they always give to her when I am twice as bad?” growled an old man with bent back and tottering limbs. “ How much did he give you?” “A duco,’ answered Anita, and rising, left the company of evil-lived and evil-minded beggars. It was not a duco which she had received, but Anita had learned in a hard school the devious ways of trickery and lying. It was a peseta, and worth sixteen ducos, so that Anita felt she might justly seek a shady spot and lie down for a nap. When she awoke, the short twilight was rapidly darkening toward the night, and Anita, feeling the coming darkness, took her way toward the hovel which she called home. Through the main business streets she threaded her way, and finally, near the river road, she came to her destination. It had once been a house, but in the tornado of the previous year, it had been almost entirely demol- ished, and the roof of nipa-palm leaves had been laid flat upon the ground. Little incommoded by the event, the inhabitants had simply cut a hole through the side of the roof and closed it with a piece of rough sacking, by which simple means it had again been converted into a house. Anita pulled aside the sacking and climbed in. All was dark within, but dark and light were as one to Anita, and she knew enough to cower and shrink [ 50 ] ANITA GOES TO SCHOOL from the blow aimed at her by a shriveled old hag who emerged at her entrance from one of the corners. “Here you are, you little beast of the field. How many years have I waited for you this day? Let me see what you have got?” Tremblingly Anita drew forth the peseta. “ Ah, this is something like. Now you stay here till I come back; ”’ and away the old woman hurried to change the money for good bino, dear, warm bino, which should fill her old bones with youth again and stir up the blood which had been shivering all day and almost stopping in its flow. This was Anita’s home and this her grandmother. No sooner had her grandmother left than Anita sought the corner where she was accustomed to pass the night. In the familiar surroundings of the di- lapidated roof which she called home there remained no need for the uncertain groping which character- ized her movements in stranger localities. Under the very eaves of the crazy dwelling was spread a worn and frayed mat made of palm fronds. This was all that protected the tender limbs of the little one from the bare earth floor. The weariness natural to an active child with the fall of night was increased by the unwonted experi- ences of the day and the languor induced by mal- nutrition. Notwithstanding the hardness of her couch, she soon fell asleep and slumbered heavily until after midnight. Awaking suddenly in the small hours, she became keenly conscious of the unyielding ground beneath [51] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES her as well as of the damp which made its way through the mat. The roof was not far from the river, and the ground, which was practically a marsh in the wet season, still retained some measure of moisture which was elicited by the warmth of the child’s body. Besides this, a section of the roof torn away in the last storm had never been mended, and the night breeze blew upon her unpleasantly, pro- tected as she was only by the thin cotton dress worn during the day. Anita moaned and stirred uneasily. Then finding herself wide-awake and intensely uncomfortable, she arose to stretch her aching limbs. Leaving the shelter of the roof, she made her way without definite intention in the direction of Calle Tréce de Mayo. More than anything else she wanted a place where she could be warm and comfortable. Feeling her way along the street she came to an open doorway in the basement of one of the larger houses. Enter- ing almost by instinct, she came upon a large pile of coarse empty gunny sacks behind the stairway. They were redolent with the pungent odor of copra, or dried coconut meat, for the reception of which they had been used, but Anita had learned to steel! the olfactory sense against a variety of unpleasant odors, and their softness appealed to her. The still- ness of the night was about her. Not a sound could be heard either in the house or the street without. She thrust aside the upper sacks, snuggled down upon the thick pile which still carpeted the board floor, and drawing several of the thick, coarse bags over her, prepared to sleep again. Soon she found [ 52 | ANITA GOES TO SCHOOL herself warmer and cozier than she had been for many a night, a delicious drowsiness crept over her, and even the sudden k-chuck, k-chuck, of a big tree lizard harbored in the rafter immediately above her was not sufficient to keep her from losing herself in dreamless sleep. Anita had designed to awaken early and be away before the people of the house could discover her, but the unwonted comfort of her bed locked her senses in sleep for a longer period than she had bargained for; hence it was that Caligula Crum, returning from his early constitutional, espied the little one asleep among the sacks behind the stairway just as he was about to ascend to the upper story where he had his lodgings. If it should be inquired why the ease-loving Caligula was abroad thus early, it might be replied that his habits, both mental and physical, were undergoing a severe scrutiny these days in the light of the ideals held by the fair idol of his dreams. Miss Burton detested sloth, hence Caligula, con- trary to ancient custom, rose early. Miss Burton was somewhat of a blue stocking, hence Caligula had embarked upon a perusal of the entire fifteen vol- umes of ‘‘ Beacon Lights of History.” Miss Burton was prejudiced in favor of the masculine straight front, hence Caligula employed the early morning hours in cross-country running with a view to the reduction of his waist-line. He was just entering the house, perspiring freely notwithstanding his light equipment of running suit and sandals, when his eye fell upon the bundle of [ 53 ] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES sacks revealing the tousled head of the little child who still slumbered. ‘Mother of me!” ejaculated Caligula. ‘‘ What have we here? If it isn’t my little friend, Anita,” he added as he gently lifted the sacks from the lower part of her face. Anita awoke with’a start and sat up, but recog- nized at once the voice of the man by whom she had already been befriended. Her fears were allayed, and she began to explain her presence: “It was cold, and I wanted a good sleep.” * Well, have you had it?” “Yes, indeed, I have, and I feel better. I must go out and try to find some breakfast.” “Why seek further, lady mine?” said Caligula, and bowing low over the hand of the child, he con- tinued with mock dignity, ‘‘ Allow me to state in the classic language of Castile, that this entire palace and the appurtenances thereof are at the disposal of your majesty.” Cal’s high-flown persiflage was entirely beyond the understanding of the little one, and she looked at him with an expression both amused and inquiring. “In other words, come and eat ”—this was added in Visayan, and was readily comprehended by the child and as readily acceded to. Taking the little one by the hand, he led her up the steep staircase. It opened above into a broad hall. Facing the stairway was a long, handsome pier-glass framed in gilt, relic of the expansive days of Spain’s dominion. Even with the new interest which the discovery of the child had awakened, Ca- [ 54 ] ANITA GOES TO SCHOOL ligula could not refrain from stopping a moment before the glass, and making a careful examination of his appearance, both in full face and profile, with especial reference to the prominence of his figure amidships. The study seemed to cause him some satisfaction, for he immediately broke into song: I’m a sylph-like creature And I’m going strong; We shall see the preacher, And it won’t be long. “What ho, varlet,” he added at the top of his voice, ‘‘ array the festal board.” At this the head of a young Filipino boy appeared at the double door, at the other end of the room, saying in Visayan, “ Breakfast is ready, Mr. Crum.”’ Caligula ceremoniously drew Anita’s thin arm through his own and conducted her into the adjoin- ing room, which was a small dining-room at the side of the house. ; * Your majesty,” said he, ** the banquet waits.” Seating the child at the table, he left the room by the rear door and proceeded to take his morning’ shower. In a few moments Caligula appeared in the din- ing-room dressed in white duck, seated himself op- posite Anita and proceeded to do the honors of the table. It was a simple enough meal, but to Anita the term banquet which Caligula had jestingly ap- plied to it was fully justified. It began with papaya, a fine ripe fruit which grows at its best in the Philip- pines. The papaya was followed by an American [ 95 |] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES dried breakfast food eaten with milk and sugar, a delectable dish to Anita, who had never tasted any- thing like it. Then came eggs, toast, and coffee. Caligula’s ebullient spirits enlivened the meal with arunning comment. Most of what he said was quite incomprehensible to Anita, but she could feel be- neath the light and airy banter the genuine feeling’ of compassion with which the young man regarded her. It aroused a correspondingly warm affection in the heart of the little waif into whose life had come so little that was tender and compassionate. “When you are waiting on royalty,” said Ca- ligula to the boy who was placing the papaya before Anita, “‘ you should do so with a proper sense of the dignity of your office. It is unbecoming for the ser- vitor to appear in the banquet chamber arrayed merely in trousers, shirt, and suspenders. You will immediately invest yourself in your robes of office, namely, a clean jacket.” Benito retired grinning, for he was accustomed to his chief’s humor and found it a constant delight to serve the cheerful American teacher. When he again entered the room he had donned a clean white collarless jacket. “The article at your right,” continued Caligula, now addressing little Anita, “is known as a spoon and is used in polite society for various purposes, chiefly in conveying food to the mouth. True, ruder and hardier peoples are accustomed to use nature’s implements, the fingers, for that purpose, but your majesty will perhaps wish to experiment with the instrument indicated.” [ 96 | ANITA GOES TO SCHOOL Anita had been about to carry the half melon to her mouth and bury her face in it, but Caligula stood behind her and showed her how to use the spoon. By the time the breakfast food appeared she was well accustomed to it. Caligula was curious to know why Anita should have been using the bags below stairs as a couch, and abandoned his court language presently to put some plain questions to the little one. “How did it happen that you were asleep down- stairs, little one? ”’ | “Tt was cold at home, and I had nothing to cover me.” “Where is your home, child? ” “It is the river barrio. Our house was blown down in the last typhoon and we are living in the roof. But there are holes in it, and the wind blows in.” “Whom do you live with? ” “I live with my grandmother, but we are very poor. I beg for her daytimes, but she takes the money and buys bzno.” “And does she give you plenty to eat?” *“ She does not give me anything. I get food wher- ever I can. Yesterday the Chinese baker, Macaw, gave mea roll. He often does.” “Macaw is a good sport. We will chalk up a good mark for him. *“T should like to see your home, little girl. I tell you what. Come around to the school at the close of the morning session, and we will go to see your grandmother. I want to have a talk with her.” [ 57 ] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES “It wouldn’t do any good. She is a bad old woman.” “Tut, tut, your majesty. You mustn’t speak evil of dignitaries. ‘ Honor thy father and thy mother,’ you know.” But this was over Anita’s head. She agreed, however, to seek out Mr. Crum when school was over. Faithful to her promise little Anita was waiting tor Caligula not far from the high school entrance later in the morning, and the two made their way to the barrio where the wreck which Anita called home was situated. Anita pushed aside the curtain of sacking, and Caligula bent his head in order to obtain a glimpse of the gloomy interior. At first his eye, accustomed to the brilliant sunlight without, could discern noth- ing, but in a few moments he made out a rough bamboo bed on one side of the room and upon it a disheveled woman lying at full length. She was fully dressed, and had loosened her outer skirt at the waist after the custom of the country, pulling the garment up over her head. As Caligula’s gaze took in the sordid surround- ings the woman awakened and raised herself upon her elbow. Her dull eyes discerned Caligula in the doorway, and amazed by the intrusion she snapped out, “Well, Americano, what do you want? ” “Ah, good morning, Sefiora,” said Caligula, “pardon the intrusion. I should like to have a few words with you.” “What may you have to say to the likes of me?” [ 98 | ANITA GOES TO SCHOOL said the woman, albeit somewhat mollified by the respectful tone and the term “‘ Senora.” “I want to talk to you about little Anita.” “Well, wait till I get up,” replied the woman. “Very well,” said Cal, “I will wait out here in the sunshine.” In a few moments the woman appeared; she had made some effort to improve her appearance, twist- ing into a knot the gray hair which had been flow- ing about her neck in a disordered mass, and pulling the garments in which she had been sleeping into some semblance of order. Her face had evidently not been washed for days, and the marks of last night’s debauch were upon her. “ What about Anita?” she began abruptly. “TI am interested in her,” said Caligula. ‘* She seems to need aid. She ought to be going to school.” “How can a poor woman like me send her to school?” whined the woman. ‘* Have you no one to work for you?” “No. My husband died years ago, and I am the sole support of the child.” If she had reversed the statement it would have been nearer to the truth. “Well,” said Caligula, perceiving his advantage, “you would be able to make your living more easily if you were relieved of the care of the child.” “ Would you separate a loving grandmother from her child? ” whined the hag in a piteous tone. “Only for her good,” said Caligula. ‘‘ Let me take her and send her to school.” “No, no,” replied the woman, ‘‘ she would get to despise her grandmother. She sha’n’t go. Be off [59] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES bs with you,” and suddenly she turned her back and retired again within the house. “Well,” said Caligula to Anita, “‘ we seem to be unsuccessful.” “Oh, I could have told you what she would say. I beg for her, and she beats me if I do not bring her enough money.” ) “Look here, little one, remember where [ live and come to me when you are unsuccessful in beg- ging, or when you need something to eat, and espe- cially when you are cold and need a warm place to sleep.” Regretfully Cal left the barrio and returned to- ward his house, ruminating on the probable future of the poor little waif to whose miserable condition was added the additional burden of blindness. [ 60 ] CHAPTER V JUAN GETS A JOB. THE HOME SCHOOL TAKES JUAN TO CHURCH “THE floors shine beautifully this morning, Joa- quin,” said Mrs. Wallace, ‘‘ you must have taken special care with them.” : “It’s the banana stalk, Senora. We rubbed them with coal-oil, and afterwards polished them with the fleshy part of a thick juicy banana plant.” “Well, they look fine. But what do you mean by ‘ we ee 9 “Oh, Juan helped me.” Mrs. Wallace dropped helplessly into an armchair in the corner of the sala where this conversation had been carried on, and threw up her hands. There was history behind the little pronoun “we.” At times Joaquin was aggressively benevolent, and where he conceived it desirable that his mistress should be generous he was apt to be rather insistent. Juan had been introduced to Joaquin by his new friend Anita, who did not fail to pay him a visit at least once a day. Juan belonged to the company of beggars with which Anita consorted. His par- ticular affliction was paralysis of the lower limbs from the knees downward. It had doubtless come from an attack of infantile palsy suffered in child- hood. The limbs had never developed below the knees and were those of a child of five, although [ 61 | ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES Juan himself was about eignteen years of age. The joints were flexed and stiffened so that Juan was forced to go about on his knees. He had manufac- tured two thick pads of leather which served to protect the skin from the earth. His advance was slow, but long practise had given him a considerable degree of dexterity in this mode of progress. His crippled condition had unfitted him for ordinary work, and he had joined the company of beggars following the line of least resistance. But Juan had recently fallen under the influence of the evangelical teaching and had made a friend of Joaquin. He was earnestly desirous of finding some means of livelihood more in accord with his new-found faith. It occurred to him that he might prove of service to Mrs. Wallace, and he had dis- covered in Joaquin a ready advocate. The latter, besides harboring a genuine friendship and compas- sion for Juan, thought he saw the opportunity of lightening his own burdens, and had several times spoken to his mistress of the desirability of adding Juan to the household staff. The reluctance which Mrs. Wallace had shown had grown more from her unwillingness to bring the crippled youth into the intimacies of the home than lack of inclination to lighten Joaquin’s duties. She feared the effect upon little Agnes. The latter was a frail fairylike child, and might easily be frightened by the grotesque appearance of the cripple. Between the two of them the young men had carried on an undiscourageable campaign to sell Juan’s stock to Mrs. Wallace. On one occasion she [ 62 ] JUAN GETS A JOB had found Juan pulling weeds in the garden, a task set for him by Joaquin. The previous day Mr. and Mrs. Wallace had risen to discover the sidewalk in front of their house neatly swept. In fact, Juan’s diligence had led him to extend his administrations as far as the middle of the road. Mrs. Wallace had thus far proved adamant, however, refusing all Joa- quin’s pleadings that Juan be added to the staff. There was something so amiable and at the same time respectful about Joaquin’s persistence, that Mrs. Wallace felt her heart softening in spite of herself. “Well, Joaquin,” she said, ‘“‘ you seem determined that we should adopt Juan.” “He is a very good boy, Senora.” “ But he has been traveling for years with that dreadful beggar crew.” ‘“ Oh yes, Sefora, but he has left them. Juan has become a Christian.” “Do you think he is genuine in his conversion? ”’ “ Why, Sefiora, Juan has not begged for a month. He has had a very hard time. He has tried grinding rice in Sefor Albay’s rice-mill, but the pay will hardly keep him.” “ But what could we do with him, Joaquin? ”’ “He is very strong in the arms and can do all sorts of things. Look at the floors! He has gone over them with the banana stalk again and again.” Just then a clear, merry little laugh came from the adjoining room, and a silvery voice exclaimed, ‘Horsey, horsey, me got horsey.” As Joaquin threw open the door little Agnes was [ 63 ] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES revealed seated astride Juan’s back as he bent to his task of polishing the floor. “ Oh Mamma, Mamma, come, see. I’se dot horsey. It’s Juan, Mamma. Agnes likes Juan. He plays horsey lovely.” As for Juan, recognizing the strategic strength of his present position, he raised his face to Mrs. Wal- lace with a respectful but most ingratiating smile. His broad mouth seemed to bespeak a kindly nature, and his large brown eyes were as gentle and faithful as a dog’s.” “You win, Joaquin,” laughed Mrs. Wallace. “ If Agnes has joined your forces, it is useless for me to resist. We will pay your friend four pesos a month, with his living and proper clothes. He shall do the floors, weed the garden, and lighten your labors in whatever other manner your wisdom deems proper.” Hence it was a very happy Juan who prepared a half-hour later to accompany his friend to the Sun- day-school service which was held in the provisional chapel of bamboo next door to the boys’ dormitory. With his new-found dignity he had become some- what solicitous about his personal appearance. The problem was solved by the loan of one of Joaquin’s clean white house-jackets, with which Juan showed himself as pleased as a child, for it was the first decent garment he had ever donned. Thus garbed, and with an old straw hat belonging to Mr. Wallace upon his head, he started happily upon the journey to the chapel somewhat in advance of the rest of the family. [ 64 ] JUAN GETS A JOB As Juan stumped along the road he was over- taken by a group of small boys white-coated like himself, full of fun and frolic, and thoroughly en- joying themselves in the bright morning sunlight. Nemesio was the foremost of the group. Indeed this was his customary position. He was a little demon. Excuse the term, but life ran high in his little soul, and if there was mischief to be plotted or adventure to be sought, Nemesio was sure to be among those present. “ Hello, Juan,” called he as soon as he was within earshot. ‘‘ Are you going to Sunday school? ”’ “Sure, I’m going to Sunday school, and you can’t tell what’s happened.” aaVWihatus it; Juan: , elles.” “Tm going to work with Joaquin for Mrs. Wal- lace, and I started in this morning.” “Hey, boys,” shouted Nemesio, “ Juan’s got a job,” and, turning to Juan, “‘ they dressed you all up, didn’t they? But your trousers don’t match your coat. Look fellows, look at Juan’s pants.” But Juan’s equanimity was not to be disturbed by the laughing of the boys. “What’s the matter with my pants? They are perfectly good pants. I made them myself last week. Joaquin gave me two empty flour-sacks and I sewed them together.” Juan’s veracity was fully attested by the three X’s of a certain well-known brand of flour still legible in spite of many washings upon the seat of his nether garments. “Come on, boys,” said Nemesio, “ we will cele- brate Juan’s job with a procession. He shall march [ 65 ] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES ahead and be captain.” Thus saying he rapidly formed the lads into a military column, and they pro- ceeded on their way singing ‘‘ Onward, Christian Soldiers.” It was a difficult thing to adapt the marching air to Juan’s slow progress, but fortunately they were not very far from the chapel, where they arrived in a few moments, Juan’s cheerful face wreathed in a grin of appreciation. The chapel was a provisional structure which was being used by the church of San Jacinto until such a time as funds should be forthcoming for the erec- tion of a permanent building. The boys and girls of the Home School were ac- customed to sit together in the middle block of seats during the morning service which preceded the Sun- day school. Having adopted Juan, they insisted on escorting him to the front of the chapel and giving him a seat in the middle of the row immediately facing the platform, much to his satisfaction. The congregation had reverently gathered. There was silence in the chapel although the meeting had not begun, for the Filipino has a great respect for the house dedicated to the worship of God. ‘The service was not conducted on this occasion by either of the missionaries, but was in the care of the Philip- pine pastor, Rev. Braulio Pobar. The latter was a man of perhaps fifty-four years of age. He was rather above the usual stature, presented strongly marked features, keenly intellectual, with a high forehead surmounted by abundant iron-gray hair. Pastor Braulio’s sermon was adapted to the needs [ 66 ] JUAN GETS A JOB of his hearers. He knew that many of them were suffering inconveniences, business difficulties, and even real persecution for the sake of their new faith, and he spoke out of his own experience in an effort to show them the real meaning and value of the present sufferings. “Brethren,” said he, “I have been speaking to you of the compensating glory which shall be re- vealed to those who suffer with and for the Master. But the glories which are in store for us in the life beyond are not the only benefits which will accrue because of these light sufferings of ours. In a box at home our family preserves the gold ornaments and the few jewels which decked the images we wor- shiped in former days. As you know, we put those images away and destroyed them when we found the one and only mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus. But the stripping of those images meant to us averted faces and cold looks. I well remember the day when he who had been my best friend passed me by without a word. It cut me to the heart and I pondered whether the cost were not too great, but I remembered the words of the Master, ‘ Blessed are ye.’ * As a nation we are making progress In human knowledge and understanding. Our young men and women are acquiring a better education than ever their fathers had, and our schools are introducing them to subjects the names of which we never heard. But there is one thing absolutely certain, and that is that righteousness must be the basis of any real national! progress, and that character in the young [ 67 ] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES men and women who must shortly assume the reins of power is the one prime essential for the true glory of the Philippines. “This 1s why we are flinging aside the teachings which make religion a matter of money and salva- tion an excuse for sin, and are returning to the simple faith of Jesus Christ.” Following the morning service the Sunday school was called to order. The attendance was practically identical with that which had made up the morning congregation, for great interest in the Bible is manifest among all classes and ages in the Philip- pines. Timoteo was superintendent of the Sunday school. He had made a study of several recent text- books on Sunday-school methods, and had intro- duced a good many features found in advanced American Sunday schools. The school was divided into classes and graded. 'Timoteo inaugurated a new class on this particular Sunday. He grouped together a number of young men and older people who up to the present had never had the opportunity to learn to read. This was largely for Juan’s bene- fit. The latter had approached him immediately after the church service, “ Senor Superintendent! ” “Yes, Juan, what can I do for you.” “My mother could not read. She was one of the beggar gang and died in poverty and misery. My father could not read. He drank himself to death with bino. I cannot read myself, but I have just learned a little about the true story of Jesus. They [ 68 ] JUAN GETS A JOB tell me his very words are in the book called the Bagong Katipan (New Testament). If I could read those words it would almost seem as though he were talking tome. Do you think I could learn to read? ” “Most assuredly, Juan. We will start a class today for you if you will find others to enter it.” “Vill do just that, Sehor Superintendent; ” and Juan was as good as his word, for in the interim between the morning service and the Sunday school he drew together some half dozen men and women who were anxious to join him in a New Testament. reading-class. Among the members of the new class was Juan’s friend Joaquin, who although he had been associated with the Sunday school for two years, had never felt the stirrings of an ambition to read. Juan was already having a good effect upon him. Perhaps the opposite intellectual end of the Sun- day school was the class in English for the young men and women of the high school. This was well attended, not only because of the students’ inherent interest in the Bible, but also because it gave them an additional opportunity to practise their English. This latter class was conducted by Mr. Wallace, who greatly valued the occasion for the contact it gave him with the brighter students of the school. Walking home with Doctor Murray after the Sunday school was over he spoke of the permanent results in the lives of the young men which he believed would be effected by the class. “ But isn’t it true,” inquired Doctor Murray, “ that a good many of the students come simply because it [ 69 } ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES adds to their relatively few opportunities to talk with one who speaks English as his mother tongue? ” “ Indubitably,” replied Mr. Wallace, “but to my mind that does not detract from the value of the occasion in any degree.” “Some of them are quite bigoted Romanists, are they not?” “ Certainly, and they are placing themselves in a position of very serious danger if they are anxious to preserve the integrity of their old superstitions and practises.” “Do they ever challenge your opinions and atti- tudes? ” “Constantly. I invite inquiry and am always glad to have them compare view-points with me or frankly criticise any statement I may make.” “Do you find them altering their opinions in any degree? ” “ That is one of the most encouraging things about it. They change insensibly. The simple teachings of the Scripture carry irresistible force, and before they know it they have drifted into a favorable atti- tude toward our view-point, and those who were at first most opposed will often find themselves joining me in making clear our attitude to newcomers.” “They seem greatly to appreciate what you are doing for them in the class.” “There is no doubt but that not a few of them will be among the real leaders of the Philippine people in the days to come. They may not all become evangelical Christians, although quite a large num- ber have already done so, but it is quite certain that [ 70 | JUAN GETS A JOB their entire future activity will be more or less gov- erned by the views they are now forming.” While the friends were pursuing their way to the Mission compound, Sehor Braulio, the Philippine pastor, had remained behind and was in earnest conference with José Buenaventura, who had sought him out after Sunday school for counsel. “Pastor,” said José, “your words went straight to my heart today. I have a problem similar to the one you solved so bravely in your own experience.”’ “What is troubling you, José? I should be glad to help you, if I could.” “It is about my images. You know my aunt was a devout Catholic and had a collection of remark- ably fine saints. They have fallen to me, and now that I have learned to worship the God who seeks for those who will worship him in spirit and in truth, I do not know how to dispose of them.” “That problem should not be a very difficult one to solve, José. Why not make a bonfire of them. Invite your friends, if you like. They will rejoice to know that you have escaped from bondage.”’ “ But the images are very valuable, Pastor. We are not so well off as we once were. The bandits stole ten head of water-buffalo from us a few years ago. We have had other losses.” ““ Be very sure, José, that you will never be so poor as when you decide to profit by the sale of idols. Besides, who would buy them? ”’ “T have a purchaser all ready. Sefor Perez is willing to pay me quite a fair price for them.” “ What would Sefior Perez do with them? Would [71 | ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES you be willing to encourage image-worship in others by putting idols in their hands? ” “ But, Pastor, they will worship others if not mine. The images represent valuable property. Have we any right to destroy things of such intrinsic value? I could give a substantial contribution to the new church if I sold them.” ““ José, you must settle the matter with God. We have no father confessors in our church.” With this they parted, and the pastor turned toward home accompanied by his wife and daughter. [ 72 | CHAPTER VI PAZ PLUCKS A CABBAGE. ANITA SEES THE HOME SCHOOL. NEMESIO GETS INTO TROUBLE TERRACED gardens flanked the long Home School building. They lined the sides of a little valley in the shape of a horseshoe. A young girl of about twelve was working upon one of the upper terraces, weeding the garden. She was a well-grown child, with straight lustrous black tresses tied with an old yellow ribbon and hanging down her back. This particular section of the garden had evidently been tended with great care. Its appearance did not offer much promise of a crop, however. There were some twenty or more pale and anemic-looking cab- bage-plants, their leaves limp and straggling. Only one of them, and this occupying the very center of the patch, showed any evidence of prosperity. Its leaves stood up firmly, and there was an attempt at heading about its center where the crisp leaves curled tightly in together. It might have been taken for the queen of the little cabbage community, hold- ing lordly sway over its lesser companions. Paz appeared in a preoccupied and meditative frame of mind. She examined the queen cabbage with some curiosity and then turned to the poorer plants surrounding it. There were round holes in the leaves, and Paz turned them over to search for [73 ] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES the guilty worms, shaking a shower of dewdrops from each in the process, for it was the early morn- ing hour. Finding a worm here and there, Paz ruth- lessly destroyed them and turned again to the plump plant in the center. This time she gave it an even closer scrutiny, turning the outer leaves over and feeling the gnarled bulb in the middle. Turning once more to the remainder of the patch she completed the examination of the lesser plants and then sat squarely down beside the queen cab- bage, her bare feet encircling it. “Now I wonder,” said Paz to herself, “ whether there are not more worms in the center of this plant. Here is a curled-up knob of leaves, just the sort of a place which worms seek to hide in. Mamma Shubert always tells us to be thorough in our work. I really think I ought to look inside. This may be the nest of the worms, and they will breed here and destroy the other plants.” So saying Paz deftly removed the outer leaves from the curly ball. “All right, so far, but the worms would probably hide in the very center.” Leaf after leaf was uncurled, the outer ones break- ing away in the process. It was just as Paz had reached the heart of the cabbage, finding it, much to her surprise, uninhabited, that Miss Shubert made her appearance. Miss Shubert was clad in a blue print morning gown. Let it be told, she had high rubber boots on her feet and gardening gauntlets on her hands, one of which clasped a kitchen knife. Miss Shubert was [74] PAZ PLUCKS A CABBAGE ready for business, and she approached the cabbage- patch with a pleasant smile of anticipation upon her face. Frankly, the cabbage-patch had been a dis- appointment. The seed from America had sprouted, and during the early days of their growth she had expected great things of these little cabbage-plants. Malnutrition had set in soon, however, and Miss Shubert had by this time become habituated to the thought that most of the plants would prove a fail- ure. Her anticipatory smile was due to the fact that in the very center one plant out of the entire sowing showed promise. 'Tenderly she had watered and cared for it day by day. Perhaps it was her assidu- ous attention which had brought about the happy result. The day before she had made up her mind that on the morrow the cabbage might be cut, and she had conceived the generous thought of sending it to Mrs. Wallace as a tribute of affection. “Paz!” ejaculated Miss Shubert. ‘‘ What have you been doing’? ” “T’ve been picking worms off the cabbages, Mamma Shubert. I was very careful to get them all, just as you said.” “ But what have you done to the one big cabbage in the middle of the patch? ” “Twas afraid there were worms in the middle of it. It was quite hard, and the leaves were curled up. I thought there must be worms in it, but there weren’t.”’ Paz’s last statement was sufficiently attested by the leaves which lay scattered about and the exposed heart of the outraged vegetable. [75] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES ‘But Paz,” wailed Miss Shubert, “ this was the only cabbage which was amounting to anything. I wanted to give it to Mrs. Wallace, and you have spoiled it.” “Tam sorry, Mamma. I did not know. I was looking for worms.” “Well, well. It is useless to fret about it now. But I am so disappointed. Here, take this knife into the kitchen.” The loud ringing of a bell summoned not only Paz and Miss Shubert, but the whole group of children who found a home in the Home School to the morn- ing meal. There were nearly a hundred of them, boys and girls, in almost equal numbers. They filled the dining-room and took their places at the long tables. For the smaller children, some of whom could not have been older than three or four years, there was a low table suited to their diminutive stature. After the children were seated and a simple grace had been said by the child designated by Miss Shubert, there was a slight confusion at one of the tables. “What is the matter? ” asked Miss Shubert. “No spoons,” responded Eugenio, who was cap- tain of the boys’ group during the present week. “Why are there no spoons? Who set the table this week? ” “ Benito,” again responded Eugenio, indicating a bright little child of five years who stood with round eyes at the small table, an interested spectator of the disturbance. [ 76 ] PAZ PLUCKS A CABBAGE * Benito,” asked Miss Shubert, “ why are there no spoons for the boys at the big table?” “ Not enough, Mamma Shubert.” But “ Mamma Shubert” was wise in the ways of youth. “ Kugenio,” she said, ‘‘ go up to Benito’s bed in the dormitory and see if you can find them.” Benito subsided uneasily into his seat as Eugenio left the room, and in a few minutes the latter came back with about twenty spoons in his hand. “ Benito,” said Miss Shubert sternly, ‘“‘ why did you hide the spoons in your bed?” “Please, Mamma, I thought it would be nice to have a picnic with the other children this afternoon under the bamboo trees at the back of the school.” “It was very naughty of you, Benito. The next time you want a picnic come and tell me about it. As a punishment, Benito will be tied by the leg to his bed during the baseball hour and will spend the time polishing all the spoons.” Benito having been thus effectively disposed of, the meal proceeded in relative quiet. After breakfast a brief period was given to morn- ing prayers. Miss Shubert who fully recognized the deadening effect of a dull routine in however worthy a cause, varied the program considerably from day to day. Sometimes she asked the children to recite Bible verses referring to a particular subject or containing a chosen word. Their naturally reten- tive memories had been further cultivated by these tests and the quantity of Scripture memorized by some of these little ones was quite surprising. At other times she would conduct a brief question-box, [77] ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES permitting the children to ask any question they de- sired on religious subjects. Once a week the prayer period was conducted in English, but Miss Shubert’s familiarity with the native language was such that beginning her prayer in English she would be very likely to lapse unconsciously into the Visayan lan- guage during its course and finish with a devout “ Kabaypa”’ instead of *‘ Amen,” in which she would be joined by all the children. The dining-room which was in the lower story of the Home School building, opened into the large assembly-room, and here the children gathered a little later, for it was Saturday, and in place of the usual classes held on the other days of the week, it was customary on this day to assign to the children the responsibility for the tasks which were to oc- cupy them during the week. The school was con- ducted upon a very low estimate of expense, and almost all the work of the home was done by the children themselves. This plan combined with economy the additional advantages of giving the chil- dren orderly habits and teaching them the care of a home. The tasks were assigned by classes, and the moni- tors of each class acted as captains, receiving the assignment and dividing the class in its execution. Seated in orderly array in the assembly-room the children awaited with a good deal of interest the announcement of the tasks. Some classes of work were more popular than others and each child hoped to receive his favorite assignment. “ Paz,” said Miss Shubert, calling up the monitor [ 78 | PAZ PLUCKS A CABBAGE of the girls’ sixth grade, “ your class will be cook’s assistants this week.” “Oh goody,” exclaimed she of the black tresses and yellow ribbon, for it was the heroine of the cab- bage-patch, “ that is just what we wanted to do.” “ Wugenio,” continued Miss Shubert, “ you and your boys will tidy up the ground and pick up papers and leaves.”’ “Yes, ma’am,” responded Eugenio. “ Nemesio, you will do the sweeping this week.” A groan from Nemesio and a lugubrious sigh from the group of boys about him. Thus Miss Shubert continued until all the classes had been given their appropriate tasks. She was about to dismiss the assembly when a little mite of a child not yet two years old started up from the little bench on the front row of the assembly and held up his hand. He was a funny little fellow with a big round head and appealing eyes. His dress con- sisted of a suit of blue rompers. Toddling forward to Miss Shubert’s side as she concluded the assign- ments, he pulled her skirt gently with his little chubby hand. “Mamma! ” * Yes, Miliano, what is it?” ‘Mamma, you haven’t given me any work.” * You, Miliano! Why you aren’t big enough to do anything.” Two great oily tears started from the appealing eyes and began their course over the rounded cheeks. Miliano was the youngest child in the home. He had been abandoned by his mother the previous year eae ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES when he was but a baby of nine months. Miss Shubert had felt it almost an impossibility to under- take the care of such a very young child in view of the exacting routine of classes and domestic cares connected with the older pupils. The little waif was so helpless, however, that she had assumed the added burden, and he had very soon made a warm place for himself in every heart. “You dear lamb,” said she, “ of course you shall have something to do. Paz,’ she added, turning to that young lady, ‘‘ let him carry the spoons out to the kitchen when you clear the tables.” Paz and her companions repaired at once to the kitchen and were soon engaged in the congenial task of washing greens. Joaquin thrust his head in at the door of the kitchen. ‘** Paz,” said he, observing the girls at their task, *T’ve brought you a visitor.” “Who is it?” she asked, her curiosity promptly aroused. It’s little Anita, the blind girl,” replied Joaquin, producing the timid little child from behind him. “Oh yes,” said Paz, “I know all about her. Miss Shubert told us about her being at the Sunday sing at Mrs. Wallace’s and how Mr. Crum fell over your feet. Miss Shubert said it was very dreadful not to be able to see and taught us to thank God for our eyes.” “Well,” said the matter-of-fact Joaquin, “ here she is, and she’s hungry. That’s why I brought her. There wasn’t anything left from breakfast at our house today. Have you got anything?” [ 80 ] PAZ PLUCKS A CABBAGE “T don’t know. We will ask Cook.” Cook was in the outer room caring for the fires. Her ready sympathy was elicited in behalf of the little blind girl, and she produced a large plate of rice and two small dried fish, all of which Anita disposed of promptly and appreciatively. Having seen his little friend comfortably seated at her meal, Joaquin hastened away to his own morn- ing duties. Paz kept up a running chatter with the little blind girl, asking her many questions about the beggar group, how she lived, and whether she liked to go to school. When the plate was entirely emptied Anita sat by Paz and talked with her until the completion of the work, after which Paz volunteered to show her the house. Notwithstanding her lack of vision, it was with the liveliest interest that Anita accompanied her new friend over the house and grounds. Paz explained to her the use of each room and described as well as she was able its appearance. Anita was particu- larly interested in the playground and the dormi- tories. “ Ah,” sighed the little one, “ how lovely it must be to live here and play with all the children every day. You must be very happy.” “Oh, we are,” replied Paz, and then she was seized with an exciting idea which found expression in the sudden question, “ Couldn’t you come and live here? ” “No, no,” answered Anita, ‘‘ Grandmother would never let me. She hates any one who speaks about [ 81 | ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES taking me away. The other day the kind American teacher, Mr. Crum, talked to her about it, and she became very angry.” “Perhaps we could persuade her. Miss Shubert could, I am sure. She can persuade anybody to do anything. Let’s go and see her.” Reluctantly Anita accompanied her to the front room in the upper story where Miss Shubert sat sewing. It was the principal’s sitting-room and reflected the personality of its mistress. There were touches of home on every side, a few choice pic- tures, several vases, sofa cushions on a long Japa- nese cane lounge, photographs of friends, and a phonograph. “Mamma Shubert,” began Paz, “‘ excuse me for disturbing you, but I want you to see little Anita. Joaquin brought her. She is blind and poor. She has no one to take care of her except her grand- mother, and she is cruel and beats her.” “Yes, I know little Anita,” responded Miss Shu- bert. “I saw her at the Sunday sing.” Don’t you think it would be nice if she came here to live? ” hinted Paz. ‘“T am very sorry, Paz, but you know we haven’t very much money to take care of the children here. It comes from the children in America. Many of them are quite poor and give all they can afford. I am afraid we cannot take her just now.” ‘“But Mamma, she is so poor and she wouldn’t eat very much.” “T have taken child after child, Paz, beyond the number for which the support has been provided, [ 82 ] PAZ PLUCKS A CABBAGE and I do not see how I can afford to take another. I am sorry we cannot take dear little Anita.”’ There were tears in the principal’s voice as she spoke. Anita, recognizing the note of sympathy, said with a sigh: “ Never mind, Senora. I am very sure my grand- mother would not let me come any way.” sorrowlfully Paz turned away and leading Anita by the hand left the room. Upon the floor below she encountered Eugenio and told him the whole story. . “Ay,” said Eugenio, “ I’m sorry Mamma Shubert cannot take Anita. I'll tell you what let’s do. We'll get the rest of the boys and girls to agree to eat plain rice three days every week, and go without the fish or sauce we usually have with it. Perhaps we could save enough this way so that Mamma Shubert could take Anita.” “No, no,” said Anita, “it is good and kind of you to want me. But I could never leave my grand- mother.” With this she ran hurriedly along the road leading to the entrance to the compound and so out toward the city. In the meantime Nemesio had been conducting the operations of the class of which he was monitor after a different fashion. Nemesio was in that par- ticular stage of development when his constructive possibilities as a leader strove with the tendency to mischief of all kinds inseparable from the gift of initiative in a boy of his age and cheerful spirits. Nemesio was not lazy, but often gave the impres- sion of being so. This was because he acted upon [ 83 | ANITA: A TALE OF THE PHILIPPINES the principle of never doing any work himself which he could get any one else to do. His decisions were as quick as lightning. Gathering his associates about the broom-rack, he speedily assigned the whole task to them. * Listen,” said he, ‘‘ every fellow take a broom and sweep the room I tell him to. Rufo and José, you take the dining-room. Basilio and Gil, the assembly- room, David and Pedro the dormitory,” and so on through the entire list. Obedient to the command the group scattered, fail- ing to observe that like a true captain Nemesio had assigned all the rooms to others, leaving himself at leisure. As in other countries it is sadly true also in the Philippine Islands that “‘ Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do.” Nemesio looked around for some interest upon which to bestow his abundant leisure. In assign- ing the sweeping of the upper-story rooms he had been led by the task up-stairs. Leaning over the balcony, he made the interesting discovery that he could just touch one of the bamboo poles which had been placed against the walls to enable the work- men who were mending the roof to carry on their task more easily. Miss Shubert had solemnly warned the boys and girls to leave the bamboo scaffolding strictly alone, but the Philippine boy has as much of the monkey in him as his American brother, and where was there ever a boy who could resist the temptation of a climb? Nemesio reached out from the veranda, balancing himself perilously but skilfully by his naked toes [ 84 | PAZ PLUCKS A CABBAGE twisted beneath the balcony railing.