She remembered hearing of the Biblia Sagrada
years ago, when she was a girl in Lisbon, long before she came to
California; but none of her acquaintances had such a book, and she
had never before to-day seen a Portuguese Bible.
But at last the book was handed back to Miss Elizabeth.
"No money," carelessly explained Mr. Esvido.
The oil-maker who bought the crops of the local olive-growers had
not yet paid for the olives. Even ten cents was not in Mr. Esvido's
pocket, just now.
Miss Elizabeth looked around. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Esvido seemed
very anxious about the Bible, but Miss Elizabeth felt anxious for
them. A woman who could read Portuguese ought to have a Bible, and
she ought to pay something for it in order to interest her in it
thoroughly. Miss Elizabeth's eyes spied a yellow squash. She did not
want it, but it would be payment.
"You give me squash, I give you Biblia Sagrada," she proposed.
"How you take it?" asked Mr. Esvido, smiling.
Miss Elizabeth opened her hands with a gesture that showed she meant
to carry the squash, hidden as much as possible under her short
cape.
"We make trade," agreed Mr. Esvido; and Miss Elizabeth, leaving the
Bible, bore the big squash away.
But Miss Elizabeth's yellow burden became very heavy before she had
gone far on the long country road. She found at last a wandering
piece of newspaper, which she wrapped over as much of the vegetable
as possible.
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