“Oh, by all means the quay,” the girls decided. “There will be a second mass after a while and we can hear that.” Down by the water’s edge the crowd was collecting, some leaning over the parapet to watch the flower-decked barges, some walking up and down, some standing in groups talking, rich and poor alike together. The little port was well situated and commanded a view of green hills, of a stretch of sandy beach and a bridge. Large and small crafts rocked on the waters of the bay; little rowboats plied back and forth. At last there was a distant sound of music, the drone of a bag pipe, the tap of a drum, the blare of trumpets. Everyone rushed to the corner of the square. It was not a very imposing procession, this upon land; a few priests, and acolytes with swinging censers, with but a handful of followers, made up the body of those who attended the rude little figure of the venerated Virgin. This was borne to the water’s edge under a canopy. A decorated barge was in waiting. In this embarked priests, musicians and acolytes, the Virgin occupying a place in the center, and soon the barge moved slowly out. “There is Don Amable,” cried Patty. And at the same moment her own party was recognized by the gentleman and his daughter. “You are going with us on our boat?” said Don Amable. “Certainly, certainly you are. There is plenty of room. We have been expecting you.” And with as much haste as the occasion admitted, they were urged on board the boat which, taking its turn, was now waiting. A number of other guests were already seated upon the garlanded boat and these were presented with due ceremony. Everything moves slowly in Spain and it was some time before the whole line of some two dozen boats and barges, was ready to move. The larger crafts followed close in the wake of that which carried the priests and the sacred wooden figure; next came the smaller boats, the little rowboats bringing up the rear. Slowly, very slowly, the procession moved around the bay under the bluest of skies and on the bluest of waters. “I wonder if the little plain old Virgin in her ancient costume enjoys all this,” said Patty to her neighbor, Robert Lisle. “She looked very contented, I thought.” “Yes, didn’t she? I should think she would look forward to being brought out of that dingy old church into the fresh air. Some of the boats are really very pretty. That one which is rose-wreathed is quite fetching, and there is another all green and white which I like. Imagine seeing anything like this on Sunday in our Puritan land. I have seen fêtes in France, of course, but somehow these appear even more festive.” “I think one’s own mood has something to do with it.” “That may be,” said Patty, thoughtfully. Arriving at the little beach, mass was said in the open air, then St. Mary of the Sea was borne again to her shrine, her presence being believed to bring a blessing to waves and tide.