him; and from the first, he seemed to know intuitively that she was to be trusted and obeyed.

[Pg 28]

On this day, he was especially happy as he trudged along, his hand in that of his Beloved.

"Did you see how beautiful the sunset is, Wathemah?" asked the teacher, looking down at the picturesque urchin by her side. He gave a little grunt, and looked into the sky.

"Flowers in sky," he said, his face full of delight. "God canyon put flowers, he Wathemah love?"

"Yes, dear. God put flowers in the canyon because he loves you."

They stopped, and both looked up into the sky. Then, after a moment, she continued:

"You are like the flowers of the canyon, Wathemah. God put you here for me to find and love."

"Love Wathemah?"

"Yes."

Then she stooped and gathered him into her arms. He nestled to her.

"You be Wathemah's mother?" he questioned.

She put her cheek against the little dirty one. The child felt tears. As he patted her cheek with his dirty hand, he repeated anxiously:

"Me teacher be Wathemah mother?"

"Yes," she answered, as though making a sacred[Pg 29] covenant, "I, Wathemah's teacher, promise to be Wathemah's mother, so help me God."

[Pg 29]

The child was coming into his birthright, the birthright of every child born into the world,—a mother's love. Who shall measure its power in the development of a child's life?

They had reached the Clayton home. Wathemah turned reluctantly, lingering and drawing figures in the road with his bare feet, a picture one would long remember.

He was a slender child, full of sinuous grace. His large, lustrous dark eyes, as well as his features, showed a strain of Spanish blood. He was dressed in cowboy fashion, but with more color than one sees in the 

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