"Maria and Martim do not get along as well as the little girl and Affonzo," he said to his wife, as soon as the children were out of sight. "It doesn't matter," she said serenely. "It does not hurt either of them to argue if it doesn't go too far. Children are far better for not being noticed. Affonzo gets along better with his cousin because he has Lola to quarrel with; Martim grows selfish from being too much alone." She sighed and her husband's face clouded as he thought of the children they had lost. "We will keep Maria with us if the father is willing, as long as she is in Brazil." "Better still, let both Maria and Martim return home with us," said the Senhora Dias. "Then all four young folk will learn to accommodate themselves to each other." "That is an excellent plan, and it is kind in you to suggest it," said the Senhora Lopez, and her husband added, "We shall try to arrange it that way." "Come, children," he called a few minutes later. "We must return for lunch now as we drive to the _fazenda_ afterwards. Do you know what we old folk have been planning?" "No, papa, what is it?" asked Martim. "Something pleasant, I am sure," said Lola. "For you are the dearest uncle in the world." "Thank you, little flatterer," he pinched her cheek playfully. "It is that you four cousins are all to return to Para for the winter." "Oh, delightful," cried Lola. "How nice!" Maria said, and the boys seemed equally pleased. The afternoon air was clear and bracing, and the children were in high spirits as the party drove to the _fazenda_. The road wound through a beautiful country, past vineyards, and tea and coffee plantations, for Sao Paulo is one of the most productive provinces of Brazil. As they passed row after row of small trees Lola said, "What pretty, glossy leaves those trees have!" "Those are coffee trees," said Martim. "They grow about twelve feet tall." "But where are the brown berries," asked Maria. "Are they all picked?" Martim laughed. "It's easy to see that you've never seen coffee growing," he said. "Did you think you could go and pick the browned berries and stew a pot of coffee?" "No," said Maria demurely, "because we don't 'stew' coffee where I live." Everybody laughed at this passage-at-arms between the two children, and Senhor Lopez said, "We are beginning to see trees belonging to our plantation now. It is three miles square and we have just reached the edge of the land. The house is still three miles away." "How does the coffee grow, Uncle Hilario?" asked Maria. "Do you see the cluster of green pods on the trees, my dear? Well, seeds are within the pods, and when they are ripened must be dried, roasted and ground before they are ready for your coffee-pot. Later in the season the fruit turns bright red in colour, and makes a vivid contrast to the foliage of the trees, which is green the year around." "Are the trees planted, or do they grow wild like our rubber trees?" asked Affonzo.