she said to her father. "I'm afraid I am wasting my time trying to teach her."

"Well, then," said my father, "perhaps the best thing will be to send her along to school with Lisita."

Catalina hesitated a moment. She wished to do something for others, but she was slow to learn how.

"I think it would be better to let her go," she said resignedly.

So it was that the following Monday my father accompanied us both to school and duly inscribed her as a student. Paula immediately became the center of great interest on the part of my school-companions. They remarked upon the beauty of her eyes and hair, the latter reaching almost to her knees.

Coming out of cla.s.s at noon-time all forty-five pupils surrounded her affectionately, and at the end of a week Paula was the best-known pupil in the entire school. Catalina was right, however, for Paula was not really a student, but she applied herself because, as she said, she did not wish to cause pain to Mademoiselle, the teacher.

As she left the school in the afternoon, the teacher would kiss Paula with a tenderness not seen toward others. At times Paula would bring her a few flowers, which caused Mademoiselle's eyes to sparkle with such happiness that she almost seemed beautiful to us.

"Have you a garden?" she said to us one day.

"Yes, Mademoiselle."

"How happy I should be to have one. When you have an over-abundance of flowers don't forget me."

"Poor Mademoiselle Virtud," said Paula one day, "I am sure she has some secret burden."

"n.o.body likes her," I said. (I remembered that I had twenty-five lines to copy because I had talked all the afternoon.)

"G.o.d loves her!"

"And you?" I questioned.

"Oh, certainly," said Paula.

"Notwithstanding she is so disagreeable?"

"I do not know. We don't know her outside of school."

"And I don't want to know her. As for you, you love everybody that n.o.body else loves." And that was true: Paula was always the friend of the poor and the despised. In that great school which was a world in miniature, there were many unfortunate little ones who suffered neglect from their drunken parents; others were cruelly treated at home, and in the case of still others, their timidity or physical weakness exposed them to the ridicule of their comrades. In Paula, however, they all found a friend and a companion who loved them and defended them.

The capacity to love and to make others happy, extended itself also to the animals, but not to those small boys who destroyed the birds' nests or threw stones at the horses or dogs--these she attacked without mercy. In the neighborhood of "The Convent" where we lived, there were quite a number of this type of boy whose greatest pleasure was to torture the dogs and cats. One of these especially, the son of the "Breton," was a veritable executioner. He never attended school, for his father never bothered with him, and his mother, poor woman, accustomed to misery and the blows of her drunken husband, had apparently lost all semblance of human feeling. This boy spent his time tormenting anything or anybody who was unable to resist him--old men, sick people, little children, and especially dumb animals.

One cold day in December Paula and I were walking slowly along the street, studying our lessons as we walked. Suddenly we heard the piercing cries of a cat in distress. Paula, always touched by suffering of any kind, stopped to listen. Louder came the cries of the cat.

"Mee-ow, mee-ow."

Paula threw her grammar on a road-side bench. "Poor little thing," I cried, "we can't help him, for I can't see where he can possibly be."

"Well, I can't stop here," said Paula. "Come along, we'll soon find him."

We ran over to the ca.n.a.l which ran along a few feet below the avenue.

Suddenly I was afraid!

"Perhaps Joseph, the Breton's son, is mixed up in this!" I said trembling.

"Come along anyway, unless you want me to go alone," Paula said quietly. So I followed her.

Sure enough, it was the Breton's son surrounded by a dozen ragam.u.f.fins of his own set. They took no notice of us. He had a beautiful black cat, that had a string tied to its hind legs. The boy was swinging it around his head and at times ducking it in the ca.n.a.l while his companions danced around him with delight.

"Now that he's good and wet, let's bury him," suggested Joseph.

"Alive?" said his comrades.

"Of course alive! And the old dame, his owner can--"

But here Paula suddenly lunged forward, seizing the wicked youngster by the wrists with a surprising strength for one of her age.

"You'll do nothing of the kind," she cried. "Let him go; do you hear me?"

"Let me alone!" said the young bully as he tried to bite her.

Not being able to accomplish this, he gave her a ferocious kick, which caused Paula to let go with a cry of pain. She now saw that her efforts were useless.

"See here," she said to him, after a few seconds' thought, "If you give me the cat, I'll give you four cents."

"Ah, you haven't got four cents."

"Yes, I have; I have it here in my pocket"

"All right, let me have the money."

"No, no," said Paula, "if I give you my four cents first, I know you will never let me have the cat. Come, give him to me," she said beseechingly; "he's never done you any harm and you have made him suffer so much." But Joseph refused this appeal. With a diabolical grin he raised the cat again to swing it over his head. There was a meow of agony--but it was the last one! In spite of her former lack of success, Paula made one supreme effort to rescue the cat. Somehow the string got loose, the cat escaped, and was soon lost to view.

Then the rage of the young ruffian knew no bounds as he turned to Paula.

"Run, run!" I cried; but Joseph and his companions cut off the only path of escape.

Crazy with terror, I began to yell, "Help! help!" with all my strength; but the boys drowned my cries with their own shouts. This very circ.u.mstance saved us. I saw someone coming to our help.

We soon recognized with joy that it was Dr. Lebon. On seeing him the boys ran away with the exception of Joseph, who was a little too late. The Doctor, who knew him, suspected he was the guilty one, and succeeded in getting him by the ear. Then the doctor said to me, "What has happened, Lisita?" And I told him the whole story.

"Well, he won't do it again; that's one thing certain," said the doctor.

"Oh, let him go!" said Paula generously.

"Paula," said the doctor with a severity we had never seen in him before, "Go back to the house with Lisita!"

We had nothing to do but obey. On the way back we could tell by Joseph's cries that he was having a bad time of it!

Teresa was frightened when she saw the condition of Paula's leg, as the result of the terrible kick she had received. The doctor soon arrived at the house, and Paula could scarcely help crying as the doctor examined her; but he said as he left us, "If I am not mistaken, Joseph will never trouble you any more."

This was true. Joseph avoided us for a long time; but he took revenge on us through the other boys, who would cry after Paula as she walked up the street, "Cat mother! Cat mother!" This incident won us a friend. Shortly afterwards, returning from school, an elderly woman that lived in one of the most miserable huts among the "Red Cottages", stopped us and asked if one of us was called Paula.

"This is she," said I, pointing to my cousin.