The guests from Ribadesella were a stately old gentleman and his widowed daughter, a handsome young woman picturesquely wrapped in the mourning veil it is the custom in Spain for women to wear. It combined shawl and head covering, being an immense square of soft veiling which was draped around head and figure with graceful effect. Don Tomás was not at home, Doña Martina was busy with household matters, Paulette was giving her attention to the young widow, Señora Campos, while Don Juan was entertaining her father, Don Amable, being assisted in the performance by Don Felipe. “Bother!” exclaimed Patty, after a brief colloquy with her sister. “Strangers are here. Will you stay and see them, Mr. Lisle?” “Shall I not be in the way? I think I would better go on unless I can be of some use,” responded her companion. “Do stay,” begged Doña Martina. “Tomás is off somewhere. The cook has a toothache and has her face tied up with a black rag. She is invoking all the saints to come to her aid, but will not resort to any reasonable means of relief. I shall have to send Anita into the kitchen to help, so Patty, if you will give an eye to the table, Mr. Lisle can go up and help Juan talk to the men. A new arrival will make them forget to wonder why our meal is late.” She bustled off, leaving Patty and the young man alone. “We have our orders,” said Patty. “Mind you talk nicely to Don Amable. He speaks a little English, I believe, and then there is the handsome widow whom you can try your Spanish on. What you can’t say in words you can make up in telling glances.” “The prospect positively scares me,” rejoined Robert, pulling out his handkerchief to fan himself in pretended agitation. “Is this yours?” Patty stooped to pick up a sealed letter, her quick eye taking in the superscription on which read: “Miss Beatrice Moffatt.” Robert took the letter mechanically, held it in his hand and looked at it gravely for a moment. “Yes, it is mine,” he answered. “I meant to post it this morning, but there is no hurry.” And he slipped it into his coat pocket, then went upstairs. “Now, who is Miss Beatrice Moffatt?” said Patty to herself. “I never heard of her before.” The visitors from Ribadesella had come to invite Don Juan and his friends to the coming _fiesta_ of Santa Maria Marina, it being the event of the season for the little seaport, and, having given their invitation, taken their meal, and made many high-flown and elaborate speeches, they took their departure. “Don Amable is a nice old chap,” Patty remarked, “but I don’t think his name suits him with that fierce moustache of his. Are we all going to the _fiesta_, and when is it to be, Juan? Where is Tomás? I want him to tell me about Santa Maria Marina.” “Tomás has been gone since morning,” Doña Martina told her. “I believe he said he was going up the mountain.” “May I not be your informant on the subject of Santa Maria Marina?” asked Don Felipe.