"There, dear," said her mother. "That is polite. You heard what Senor Zuroaga said about the wrecks. They were terrible! Can you not say that you are glad Senor Carfora was not drowned?" "No, mother," persisted Felicia. "I'll say I wish he had been drowned, if--if he could have swum ashore afterward. Good enough for him." Senora Tassara laughed merrily, as she responded: "You are a dreadfully obstinate young patriot, my darling. But you must be a little more gracious. The gringo armies will never come to Vera Cruz. They are away up north on the Rio Grande." "Well, mother, I will a little," said the senorita, proudly. "Senor Carfora, your generals will be beaten all to pieces. You wait till you see our soldiers. You haven't anything like them. They are as brave as lions. My father is a soldier, and he is to command a regiment. I wish I were a man to go and fight." Her eyes were flashing and she looked very warlike, but the only thing that poor Ned could think of to say just then was: "Senora Tassara, if you are not careful, somebody will get in some day and steal your beautiful coffee-urn." "Ah me!" sighed the senora. "This has been attempted, my young friend. Thieves have been killed, too, in trying to carry off the Tassara plate. There would be more like it, in some places, if so much had not been made plunder of and melted up in our dreadful revolutions. Some of them were only great robberies. I understand that you must go to your business now, but we shall see you again this evening." "Good morning, Senora Tassara," said Ned, as he bowed and tried to walk backward toward the outer door. "Good morning, Senorita Tassara. You would feel very badly this morning if you had been drowned last night." The last thing he heard, as he reached the piazza, was a ringing peal of laughter from the senora, but he believed that he had answered politely.