“There Marta was nurse-maid for your mother, then a little witch two or three years old,” continued Don Carlos. “And she grew so fond of her charge that she never left her, not even when your mother had the infinite goodness to marry me, and we moved to Cadiz, my naval station then. And now Tia Marta, for your mother’s blessed sake, spends all her strength and devotion upon you. We must never forget what we owe her, and we must always treat her with respect and affection.” Rodrigo, who was pacing the tiled walks near by, trying to puzzle out a mathematical problem, turned to say: “I’ll bring her a cherry ribbon from Granada to-morrow.” “And she may wash my ears as hard as she likes,” magnanimously declared Rafael. But Pilarica slipped from within the circle of her father’s arm and ran into the house to surprise Tia Marta with a sudden squeeze and shower of kisses. By the time the little girl came out again, Grandfather had a riddle for her: “When she wears her silvery bonnet, My lady is passing fair; But she’s always turning her head about, Gazing here and there.” As the child hesitated, Rodrigo pointed to the luminous horizon, and she promptly said: “The Moon.” “But that’s not playing fair,” protested Rafael. “Oh, we don’t expect girls to play fair,” laughed his brother. “But I _want_ to play fair,” urged Pilarica. “And I want to be punished, like Rafael, when I do wrong. Why wasn’t it just as bad in me to disobey Tia Marta and run off with the Alhambra children as it was in Rafael to leave me alone?” “It’s hard to explain, Sugarplum,” said her father, “but the world expects certain things of a man, courage and faithfulness and honor, and a boy is in training for manhood.” “And what is a girl in training for?” asked Pilarica. “To be amiable and charming,” answered Rodrigo promptly. “But I want to be faithful and hon’able, too,” persisted Pilarica. “A man must do his duty,” declared Don Carlos, slowly and earnestly. “That is what manliness means. He must satisfy his conscience. But it is enough for a little girl if she content her father’s heart, as my darling contents mine. And when the years shall bring you a husband, then he will be your conscience.” “But I want a conscience of my own,” pouted Pilarica. “And I do not want a husband at all. If I must grow up, I will be a nun and make sweetmeats.” “Time enough to change your mind,” scoffed Rodrigo. “What is my riddle, Grandfather?” “Wait till my father has had his turn,” jealously interposed Rafael. Grandfather was all ready: “Here comes a lady driving into town; Softly the horses go; Her mantle’s purple, and black her gown; Gems on her forehead glow.” “But this is difficult,” groaned Don Carlos, thinking so hard that the hammock creaked. “I know,” cooed Pilarica. “Grandfather told it to me once before.” “Don’t give my father a hint,” warned Rafael. “But Rodrigo gave me a hint,” returned Pilarica.