The Almaida home was one of the better class of small farmhouses. It stood in the centre of a hillside farm of about four acres. It was a square, plastered stone house, whitewashed inside and out. The overhanging eaves of the red-tiled roof were painted deep red underneath. This was the house where Senhor Miguel Almaida's father, his grandfather and great-grandfather had lived. The central room, into which one entered from the vine-clad porch, was uncarpeted. The furnishings showed that the Almaidas were a family of more than peasant rank. At one end of the room stood a large cupboard or cabinet of carved chestnut-wood. Its shelves were full of odds and ends,--some old pieces of English ware, souvenirs of long ago days when trade relations existed with Great Britain, and there was a silver platter of the fine old Portuguese handwork of two hundred years ago. There were also a few books on the shelves, and a violin, a guitar and a flute. Against the wall, opposite the cabinet, were the beds, separated from one another by partitions which did not reach quite to the top of the room. On the walls hung framed colored pictures of the Portuguese hero king, Affonso Henriquez, of Inez de Castro and Prince Pedro, her lover. A large gilt-framed mirror hung near the door, and over the mantel was a crucifix. Never was there a cleaner or a prettier farmhouse in all Portugal. Never were there better-trained, more obedient children than Miguel Almaida's. The father, in these many days when he had to sit helpless by the fireside in his arm-chair, felt grateful for his tidy home, his good wife, and his dutiful children. He was a man of middle height, thick-set in figure. He was of grave character and of great common sense. Even during this illness he kept himself cheerful and of good hope. While the mother strained and cared for the milk, the older sisters washed and put away the dishes. Jose sat on a low stool by his father's side, holding Tareja on his knee, and listening to Antonio's stories about America, of his voyage home, and of the revolution in Portugal. Indeed the events in Portugal were of more interest even than the wonders of far-away America. "Our country has changed very little in the past ten, twenty and perhaps fifty years. Now we can hope for better times," said Miguel Almaida. News of the revolution had been slow in reaching the hillside farm. What the father had heard before as rumors Antonio now told him as facts.