Some of the expense, too, Don Joaquin managed to reduce by discovering a market he had hardly thought of till now, for the furs of animals he had himself shot; some of these animals were rather uncommon, some even rare, and he became aware of their commercial value only when bargaining for their making up into coats or cloaks for Sarella. His subsequent visits to this "store" in order to dispose of similar furs against a reduction in its charges for Sarella's clothing, he studiously concealed from her, but Sarella knew all about it. "Why," she said to herself, really admiring his sharpness, "the old boy is making a _profit_ on the bargain. He's getting more for his furs than he's spending." She was careful not to let him guess that she knew this; but she promised herself to "take it out in furniture." And she kept her promise. It was Sarella's principle that a person who did not keep promises made to herself would never keep those made to other people. "You really must," she told him, "have some of those furs made into a handsome winter jacket for Mariquita. They cost you nothing, and she must have a winter jacket. The one she has was got at the Convent--and a present, too, I believe. It was handsome once--and that shows how economical _good_ clothes are; they last so--" (Don Joaquin thought, "especially economical when they are presents.") "--But Mariquita has grown out of it. She is so tall. A new one made of cloth from the store would cost more than one for me, because she is so tall. But those furs cost you nothing." She knew he would not say, "No, but I can sell them." "Besides," she added, "if you offered them some more furs at the store they might take something off the charge of making and lining. It is often done. I'll ask them about it if you like." Don Joaquin did not at all desire her to do that. "No necessity," he said hastily; "Mariquita shall have the jacket. I will take the furs and give the order myself." "Only be sure to insist that the lining is silk. They have some silvery gray silk that would just go with those furs. And Mariquita would _pay_ good dressing. Her style wants it. She's solid, you know." Mariquita did get the jacket. But it was not of the fur Sarella had meant--her father knew by that time the value of that sort of fur. And Sarella knew that she had made it quite clear which sort she had asked him to supply. She was amused by his craftiness, and though a little ashamed of him, she was readier to forgive his stinginess than if it had been illustrated in a garment for herself. After all, it was perhaps as well that Mariquita's should not be so valuable as her own. "And married women," she reminded herself, "do have to dress handsomer than girls. And Mariquita will never know the difference."