"Well, I didn't tell this before, but I saw Francisco last night with a twenty-dollar gold-piece in his hand, standing in the restaurant."
"William," protested his mother, sharply, pushing him away from her, "didn't I tell you that had nothing to do with it. There was no gold in that pocket-book."
The crowd laughed, and William, nothing daunted, went on:
"I think it's mighty funny when an Indian like him can throw twenty-dollar gold-pieces 'round."
Francisco looked at Mr. Page; that gentleman nodded.
"In order to clear the boy of any suspicion these ill-advised and malicious remarks may have aroused in the minds of his hearers," he said, "I will now state that I gave Francisco the gold-piece to have changed for me at the restaurant."
A white boy in Francisco's position would have faced his opponent with a triumphant smile; the Indian did not even look toward him. But he glanced gratefully at Mr. Page, and the face of Mauricio grew less grave and troubled than it had been.
"I should like to ask," said Mr. Page, once more turning to the missionary, "whether you may not have been mistaken as to where you placed your pocket-book? Have you looked everywhere about the house?"
"No, sir; I have _not_ been mistaken," she replied. "I remember perfectly well having put it under the pillow. It is very easy to go through this house. There is not even a closet in it. Where could it be hidden?"
"No, sir; I have not. I never put money under a mattress."
"'Tis my belief, 'tis my belief," whispered a rheumatic old Irishman to Mr. Page, "that the b'y yonder," pointing to William, "has got up some thrick agin the Indian. He have a great spite agin him."
"You don't believe he has hidden the money, do you?" inquired Mr. Page.
"I do, ye know," was the reply. "He's the divil's own limb--that same youngster. And they both of them, mother and son, have a great spite agin the Indians because they're Catholics. 'Tis a shame, sir, to have that innocent crathur accused in this way."
"It is," agreed Mr. Page. "But no one who knows him will believe it. Further, there is not the slightest evidence to support the woman's accusation."
The old man looked at him quizzically. "You are a lawyer, I believe, sir," he said.