This young man brought suddenly into the conversation from a brown study into which he was plunged, hurriedly replied, “Shocking, awful badth form,” that being the readiest English which came to him at the moment. Then, by the laugh which went up, perceiving that he had made the wrong reply, he asked, “What didth you say, Mees Pattee? I didth not hear correctly.” “I asked if you thought I would look well in purple.” “You wouldth look well in anything,” responded Tomás with a bow, and so redeemed his reputation for gallantry. “There will probably be no place to get lunch at Celorio,” said Doña Martina, “so we must take something with us, and our _romeria_ will be in the nature of a picnic, for after the service at the church we can go to the _playa_ and have our lunch. Celorio is directly on the sea.” “What fun that will be,” said Patty. “I shall like it better than going to a _fonda_, though that is a good experience, too. Is Celorio a pretty place?” “It is very old and interesting. The church is of the tenth century and there is an old monastery attached, with a pretty garden.” “And is it still used by the monks?” “No, like many another it has passed out of the hands of the old Benedictines who used to possess it, and now it belongs to some friends of Juan’s who have bought it for a summer home. If any of them happen to be there we can probably go through it. You will like to see the garden, I am sure.” “I’d like to see it all. Tell me some more about the _romeria_.” “A very peculiar and ancient dance is given, a strictly religious one, which is called the _danza prima_ because of its great antiquity, for no one seems to know when and how it originated. It is put into practice each year when the figure of the Virgin is borne from the church. Then the girls from the village sing their weird little song and dance the _danza prima_, the step of which is taken backward.” “It must be the queerest thing.” “It is very quaint and very individual.” “Have you asked Mr. Lisle to go with us?” said Patty suddenly. “No, but I shall do so, or you can when you see him.” “When I see him? Do you realize that he has not been here for, let me see--three days?” “And why?” “Oh, I don’t know. Sulky, probably.” “Again, why?” “Oh, well, just because. Don’t ask me to keep track of all the moods into which our young men fall. After all, elderly men are much more satisfactory. One can usually trace their seeming peevishness to a fit of indigestion or a desire for a smoke. Perceive Tomás, for example; he has been as one in a trance all the morning. Just now when he left the room he fairly staggered with dreaminess.” “It is all your fault, after your capers last night.”