“Oh, I am not so curious but I can wait for Tomás,” replied Patty, lightly. “I couldn’t think of troubling you about so slight a matter. I hope he was properly snubbed,” she said afterward to Robert. “After the way he behaved about the donkey he can keep his old palace and all that is in it, for all me. Stingy old wretch, very likely he’d beat his wife as well as his donkey, if he had a wife.” Robert beamed. “Then there’s only Tomás,” he remarked. “Only Tomás? What on earth are you talking about?” The young man made no reply except to draw from his pocket a letter which he deliberately tore into small pieces, then he stooped down, picked up a stick with which he dug a hole in the ground, and buried the bits therein, covering them up and stamping the earth down hard. “Peace be to her memory,” he said with a smile as he brushed the earth from his hands. “The quiet girl’s. Let’s talk about something else, the _fiesta_, for instance.” “I’d rather talk about ‘the quiet girl,’ as you call her. Who is she? Miss Beatrice Moffatt?” “How do you know?” “I saw the name on the letter.” “And remembered?” Patty flushed up. “Well, it wasn’t so long ago that I saw, just before lunch, and one doesn’t have to have an unusual memory to recollect that far back.” “But that it should have made an impression at all.” Robert beat the earth from the little stick he held and looked down thoughtfully. “Oh, well, you see--” Patty strove for a proper excuse, “one comes in contact with so many Spanish names, you know,” she went on rapidly, “that when an English one meets your eye it makes an impression.” “I see; a very good explanation. You wouldn’t be interested in Miss Moffatt. She is as unlike you as it is possible for anyone to be. She is like a neutral day, such as we had yesterday, while you resemble such a day as this, all sunshine and color and light. Miss Moffatt is a drab day, sky, earth, sea all one tint, no light and shade in it, not weepy, only quiet gray.” “Such days are very restful sometimes.” “Yes, but one wouldn’t care for them all the year round. Once in a while, perhaps. I enjoy Miss Moffatt sometimes; she is such a good listener.” Patty laughed. “You shall tell me more of her sometime. My curiosity is satisfied for the moment. I see Tomás coming and now we can learn all about the _fiesta_.” “We?” “Yes, why not?” “Oh, I shall be charmed to learn.” “Where have you been, Tomás?” queried Patty, as the young man came up. “Gone all day, no one knows where.” “I’ve been up on the mountain,” Tomás answered. “There is a little chapel up there. I know the _cura_ very well, and I like to visit him sometimes. He has been wanting me to come and look over some figures of the saints and one of Our Lady; they are very old and the paint is quite worn off. He wished me to see if perhaps I could restore them.” “And can you?” “I think so; he will send them down.”