Everybody turned to Sir Percy. He seemed desirous of responding, but something held him down. Young Crowberry sprang into the breach once more. "Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking," he said, rising, "I will nevertheless, however, try to attempt to endeavor to thank you on behalf of us all. Now for my own toast. The Ladies--God bless 'em. Senhor, I believe you have on your right a Lady Abbess who will give you every satisfaction. If, however, Her Ladyship should fail in anything, you have only to report the matter to Madame Baxter. I drain my glass to the Ladies." The four men drank. Isabel darted a grateful glance at young Crowberry, as if to thank him for delivering her from a painful situation; but he did not see it. Mrs. Baxter sat up, gasped, blushed, and managed to say: "I am sure, Mr. Edward, we are very much obliged." "Last not least, here's to José, the cook," cried young Crowberry, and, raising his voice, he called through the door in Portuguese: "Hola, José, how the devil are we to drink your health when there isn't any more wine?" After José had been toasted and had saluted in response, Antonio suggested that he had detained his visitors too long, and that they were doubtless wishing to see more of their new home before dark. Sir Percy seemed grateful. Pulling himself together, he acknowledged the monk's hospitality with almost excessive earnestness, and pressed him to come often to the abbey. They walked together to the road. "And I am truly to have the blue-and-orange bird?" said Isabel. "You're sure you won't miss him very much?" "Not a bit," said Antonio. "I know he will have a good home." He stood watching the chariot as it rolled away. At the bend of the road she turned and waved her hand. IV The wine-merchant and his son did not drive home with Sir Percy and the ladies. They preferred to walk. "Now then," demanded Crowberry _fils_, pouncing upon Antonio as he returned from the gate. "Out with it. What do you think of Isabel?" But Crowberry _père_, following hard on his heels, swiftly sent the youth about his business. He wanted ten minutes' talk, he said, with Antonio alone. "Da Rocha," he began, as they paced the shady length of the chief pergola; "believe me, it was one of the greatest disappointments of my life when I could not lend you the two thousand pounds you wrote for. If I'd only had sense enough to stick to wine, you could have had the money twice over in a jiffy. But I'm up to the ears in these damned railways; and Heaven only knows what will be the end." "A big profit, I hope," said the monk. "More likely a big smash. But leave all that. It's too late to alter it. Now, about these abbey vineyards. It struck me that I might get somebody to buy the buildings and to lease you the vineyards on easy terms. The only man I could think of was Sir Percy. I knew he was finding England a bit uncomfortable. You see, he's gone through nearly all his money."