“Quarrelling? No, of course not,” Doña Martina answered with a smile. “That is only a little way they have when they are interested. It may be only the weather of which they are talking.” “Never,” declared Patty. “I am enthusiastic myself, but I never could get up such an intensity of expression, such violence of action over such a simple matter as the weather.” “You’re not a Spaniard,” returned her sister. “Let us ask them the subject of their discourse and settle it at once,” proposed Patty; “it would be interesting to know.” They advanced toward the two men, who now hurried forward with apologies for not having seen them sooner. “And what were you talking about that you couldn’t see us?” Patty asked Don Juan. “What? Let me see, what. Simple matters enough; of what we may be having for luncheon, of the report that we shall have rain to-night.” Doña Martina brought her hands softly together. “What did I tell you?” she exclaimed with a nod toward her sister. “I said it might be the weather.” “Yes, but the other subject: luncheon, warranted any amount of excitement,” returned Patty as they all turned toward the dining-room. An hour later the party was included in the throng which promenaded the Esplanade. To Patty’s share fell Don Tomás as escort. “It is very beautiful,” said the girl with a wave of the hand toward the rock-encircled harbor. “Shocking,” replied Don Tomás with a desire to say something his companion could understand. “Oh, no, not at all.” Patty turned to speak to her sister. “Come here, Tina, and walk with us; we need a translator.” Doña Martina joined the two. “Tell him,” said Patty, “that I will teach him English if he will teach me Spanish.” Her sister bent a searching look upon the girl’s innocently grave face. “Very well,” she said. “He agrees,” she went on after a few words in Spanish to her brother-in-law. “Is he delighted at my gracious suggestion? He ought to be.” “Why, any more than you?” “Because he is a man.” “That is no reason.” “It is to me. All right, Tina, you may go back to your husband. We shall get along now, no doubt, since he knows what is expected of him.” “I shall walk with you two,” said Doña Martina firmly. “You are not to be trusted.” “Oh nonsense! You can keep your stern eye upon us all you like, but I shall be embarrassed if you are listening to my faltering tongue lisping in Castilian. Go back or Juan will be jealous.” “What a silly speech. However, I will go because I want to, and because it is reasonable to believe you will get on better if I am not listening.” In a few minutes there was low laughter heard from the two, who plunged into a halting conversation, and it was evident that the progress was pleasant if not rapid.