"Well, well," said my father, "I'm glad to see that you have recovered your
good humor, Paula." A frank smile passed over Paula's face, but she said
nothing. "And how has Catalina been today?" he said, turning to me.
"She has a terrible headache. Teresa is afraid she's going to be sick
again."
"Poor girl! We must be especially careful then not to make any noise," and
he turned to go into Catalina's room, but Paula detained him.
"Please, uncle, have you pardoned me?"
"What for, child?"
"For what occurred yesterday. Surely you remember, uncle. I was a bit
stubborn about giving up my Bible."
My father looked down at her, surprised. "And now, you're perfectly willing
that I keep it?"
"Oh, yes, of course, for I did not at all understand. Teresa tells me that
you had no Bible, and you see I didn't know that. And she said that after
you had read it, you would of course be giving it back to me. I am so sorry
that I appeared so selfish. Please, pardon me, won't you, uncle dear?"
"I've already pardoned you, so don't worry about that. So you like to read
your Bible?"
"Oh, yes; indeed I do, uncle."
"Well, perhaps some day I'll return it to you.
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