“I think it is pathetic to see the little dabs some of them bring,” said Patty, watching Anita empty from a bag a small hoard of nuts. “Are we to dress for the occasion?” asked Paulette. “Why, a little, maybe,” Doña Martina told her. “White muslin frocks will do.” “I wish we could wear something really Spanish,” said Patty. “You can. I have a couple of shawls, _mantas de Manila_ they are called here, and you can wear them as the Spanish girls do. You shall have the yellow one, Paulette the red. You must stick red flowers in your hair, I will show you how to arrange it, and then you will do. Some of the girls will perhaps wear the Asturian costume, they know we like them to, and some will wear the _mantas de Manila_; others still will simply wear the best they have.” “Don’t I look Spanish?” cried Patty, well pleased with herself, when she stood ready for the dance. “You look stunning, too, Polly. Isn’t it a pretty dress?” “You at least look Spanish enough,” her sister told her. And, indeed, with the yellow shawl draped gracefully around her, a red _clavel_ over each ear, and a big fan in her hand she certainly did look as unlike an American girl as possible. “I must go show myself to Juan,” declared she, dancing out of the room. She ran impetuously into the study and struck an attitude, unfurling her fan as she did so. “Behold Carmencita!” she cried. “Bella! Hermosa!” came the comment from the man sitting near the window. “Don Felipe!” faltered Patty, taken aback. “I thought it was Don Juan. I saw someone and I didn’t stop to see that it was not my brother.” “Happy Don Juan, to dwell in the house with so much beauty,” returned Don Felipe with a bow. “I am dressed for the _fiesta_,” Patty explained, “and I came in to show my costume. I look quite Spanish, do I not?” “So much so that one might well believe you to be a native of my country. Perhaps you will one day adopt this old Spain of ours. Would it be difficult to persuade you?” Patty thought of the antique jewels and answered coyly, “No one has tried to as yet, and--” as she saw a sudden flash come into the old don’s eyes, “I have not been here long enough to say whether I should like to make this my adopted country or not.” Then turning her head over her shoulder, “Here comes my brother now. Am I not fine, Juan?” she cried. “I look much more Spanish than Polly. I wish I knew some of the Spanish dances.” “I should like to teach you,” spoke up Don Felipe. Patty cast down her eyes that she might hide the amusement in them at the vision of herself capering in the _jota_ opposite the small figure of Don Felipe. “Some time when we have not spectators, perhaps,” she said sweetly, “but to-day I shall only look on.” “They are coming! They are coming!” Anita at the door announced excitedly, and Patty ran out to join her sister and Paulette, who, standing in the doorway, waited for the approaching villagers. “They are singing,” said Patty.