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THOUGHT I had heard of every loan known to man, even of the dire necessity of borrowing a broom, but to have reached the climax of borrowing a man-servant was a supreme pinnacle of glory, to which even the loftiest flights of my vanity had never hoped to soar.

No high words nor outspoken disagreement ever occurred between the departing servants and myself, but the fact began to dawn upon me that they did not intend that their Mexican customs should ever be engrafted upon my American tree of knowledge.

Without a murmur of complaint, in almost every instance, these meek-voiced, studiously polite hombres would inform me that sickness in their families required their immediate presence. If I ventured to ask where their families resided, their replies varied according to the state of the weather or their good will to me. Frequently the answer would be, in Guadalajara, Zacatecas, or San Luis Potosi, neither of which places was nearer than three hundred miles.

In time I came to observe every mood and gesture, and could generally detect, some days ahead, the indications of a contemplated departure. I remember Don Miguel Rodriguez, as he called himself, who was determined to go away so silently that I should not suspect his heartless intention.

He had given me the gratifying information that he had no family, but, as the event proved, my hold on him was no stronger for this circumstance. He now looked at me as if to say: "Well, now, Señora, you need not suppose that I do not understand your ways as