“Wasn’t it? I am sure we know just who he is.” “But he has not been properly presented and we know nothing about him except that his cousin married our uncle.” “Then, please, Tina, dear, go right to your room and write to Uncle Henry to find out. It takes so long to get letters back and forth. I’m afraid he will be gone before we can begin to treat him like a relation.” “Patty, Patty, you are perfectly irrepressible.” “Never mind. You will write, won’t you? Please, like an angel,” and she turned a pair of appealing eyes upon her sister, eyes so wistfully tender that Doña Martina, half laughing, said: “Well, yes, I will, if only to satisfy myself that he is all right. I’ll write to-morrow, Patty. I am too tired to-night.” But as fate would have it, the epistle never was written, for the very next day came a letter from Mr. Beckwith himself. Doña Martina handed it over to her sister with the remark, “There are moments when I feel that the Spanish are right in never doing to-day what can be put off till to-morrow. This is an actual answer to what I might have written and didn’t. There on the last page,” and Patty read: “By the way, Mag tells me that Bob Lisle’s son is somewhere in Spain. Of course we know it is a big place, but if you should happen to run across him do the boy a good turn if you can. He is a fine lad. His father was a great friend of mine and a better fellow never stepped. They say the son is like him, though I’ve not seen the youngster since he was in knickerbockers. He promised well then. Mag hears from him occasionally and of him from his aunt, old Mrs. Breckenridge, who lives on the Lisle place. She thinks there was never anyone like young Robert.” “So there,” Patty ejaculated, as she slowly refolded the letter. “Well, Tina, you will be nice to him.” “Of course, but not on your account, Mistress Patience Blake.” “For his own sake, then?” “Yes, and for Aunt Mag’s. I will tell Juan he is to be treated like a relative, and you know what that will mean to a Spaniard.” CHAPTER VI THE DAY OF SAN JUAN In a few days the little _fonda_ lost the guests who had set such a mark of distinction upon it that Matilda felt her house had risen to the highest repute. A rainy day had kept all within doors and had lent an opportunity for better acquaintance with Robert Lisle, an opportunity which was made use of, not alone by Patty, but by Doña Martina and her husband. These two latter had urged Mr. Lisle to make their house his home while he remained, but he had declined, saying his movements were uncertain and he might at any moment be called to Santander. He promised, however, to consider them as relatives upon whom he could drop in without ceremony.