“The fire is kindled on the top of the--altar as you call it, and the food is cooked over that,” her sister told her. “Isn’t it primitive?” “Very, but it is wonderful what a variety of food can be cooked in that simple manner, and it is more surprising that it is cooked so well.” “Is that the only kind of stove you have in your kitchen?” “About the same.” “Good! then I shall see how it is used and when I keep house in Spain I shall not be at a loss if my cook leaves suddenly.” Her sister shook her head at this offending speech and turned her attention to Paulette who was examining the rudely hewn timbers, black with age. Old Francesca was pouring out her woes into Don Juan’s sympathetic ears. She was bent with rheumatism, for the cure of which she had offered candles to the saints in vain. “She belongs to a good old family,” Don Juan told them as they came away, “but they became impoverished, and now Francesca has not the comforts she needs. She has to work in the fields and that is not good for her.” “That old woman?” “Yes, you may see her and her sister in the haying season bringing in all the hay to fill their loft. I have seen the two of them bent under such a load as hid them from sight.” “Yet she has some valuable old possessions; why doesn’t she sell them?” “First, because she could not be induced to part from them, and again because there are few purchasers of such things in this part of the country. You are far from the track of the tourist, my dear, and transportation over these mountain roads is expensive.” “Now for the _playa_,” said Doña Martina. “Paulette, my dear, your French heels will never take you comfortably over this rough road. Better let Tomás pilot you. Patty, Juan and I will look out for you,” and Patty, who expected Tomás to give his attention to her, was obliged to turn back that she might be under her sister’s wing. The way was lovely enough in spite of stones, for great trees met overhead, and a little stream babbled a winding course to the sea. Wild flowers enlivened the green, wild honeysuckle, English daisies and big-eyed marguerites, wild rose blooms, too, spotted the bushes, and the little partridge-pea threw its tendrils over the rocks. At last a narrow strip of beach, with high cliffs on either side confronted them. Great jagged pillars supported the roofs of cave-like structures, through which one could pass to the sands beyond. “They look as if they had been hewn out by Hercules or Titan, or some of those old fellows,” said Patty. “I am coming here to take a dip sometimes. I suppose it is perfectly safe.” “Oh, dear, yes, and you see those great caves on each side afford proper bath houses,” said her sister. “The unwritten law is that the men take the right, the women the left.” “It is such a nice, peaceful place I should like to spend a day here with a book and--” “And what?” “Tomás,” whispered Patty, with a little laugh.