“A little imagination is an excellent thing to have in the family,” retorted Patty. “It comes in very handily sometimes. I adore my imagination; I wouldn’t be without it for the world. You and Paulette are of the earth. My golden flower of knighthood may be nothing but a yellow primrose on the river’s brim to you, but oh, my heart, who knows what it may prove to be in my eyes.” [Illustration: “‘HE SAYS I AM A GLAD LADY.’”] “It may prove to be an inexpressible bore,” replied her sister. “There come Tomás and Juan to meet us.” “I’m glad of it. Now we can take a longer walk in this lovely air. I feel the need of it after two days of travel.” The party, reinforced by Don Juan and his brother, wandered up the long windings of the little village, white in the starlight. From over the high walls of the gardens stole sweet odors, the tinkle of a mandolin and the gay jangle of a tambourine came from the _patio_ of a small house. A couple of strolling youths did not cease their song as they passed, and when the party paused at the little bridge which spanned a small stream leaping over its pebbly bed, they could distinguish a murmur underlying the more insistent sounds. “_Me gusta mucho_,” said Patty turning to Tomás. “_Me alegro infinito_,” said Paulette, and Patty found that Paulette likewise sought to take advantage of opportunities, and that upon the garden of her understanding were also falling the seeds of knowledge. Yet so merry was Patty that Tomás with a slow striving for English words, said, “You are always a gladth ladthy, Miss Pattee.” Patty laughed. “Do you hear what your brother calls me, Juan?” she asked. “He says I am a glad lady.” “An excellent name for you,” Don Juan responded. “It suits her exactly, Tomás,” agreed Doña Martina. “She is always to laugh herself,” explained Tomás. “She is so joyful.” CHAPTER III THE WALK The next day the family dined alone. The _viajante_ with his big wagon drawn by sturdy mules with gay trappings and jangling bells, had departed, while the smoke of the Englishman’s pipe was no longer wafted upon the air. “It seems sort of lonely,” remarked Patty, “and I didn’t have a chance to see my knight gallop off wearing my gage upon his sleeve.” “Good reason why,” said Doña Martina: “he went by train, and he would have looked well, wouldn’t he, wearing a gage upon his sleeve? with that bored look of his.” Patty sighed melodramatically. “I shall have to give all my attention to Tomás then,” she said, “a good thing for my Spanish, perhaps. I have a new incentive, for I believe Paulette is trying to get ahead of me; she reels off her sentences with an _aplomb_ positively appalling. I’ve been devoting myself to those dreadful verbs, you see, while she has been increasing her vocabulary. Shall I ever compass _Ser_ and _Estar_, do you believe?” “I shouldn’t try to at once. Much better adopt Paulette’s method.”