At this moment Doña Serafina, who had swooped down on her charges, appeared to say good night. Both Dolores and Eulalia were unwilling to retire so early, but their aunt was adamant, and they knew that nothing could change her resolution, particularly as she had grown weary of fraternising with Peter. "Bueno noche tenga, Vm," said Doña Serafina, politely, and her salutation was echoed by the young ladies in her wake. "Con dios va usted, Señora," replied Tim, kissing the old lady's extended hand, after which they withdrew. Dolores managed to flash a tender glance at Jack as they descended into the patio, and Philip, leaning over the balustrade of the azotea caught a significant wave of Eulalia's fan, which meant a good deal. Cassim knew all those minute but eloquent signs of love. Shortly afterwards they also took their leave after refusing Maraquando's hospitable offer of pulque. "No, sir," said Tim, as they went off to their own mansion; "not while there is good whisky to be had." "But pulque isn't bad," protested Jack, more for the sake of saying something than because he thought so. "Well, drink it yourself, Jack, and leave us the crather!" "Talking about 'crathers,'" said Philip, mimicking Tim's brogue, "what do you think of Doña Serafina, Peter?" "A nice old lady, but not beautiful. I would rather be with Doña Eulalia." "Would you, indeed?" retorted Cassim, indignantly. "As if she would understand those idiotic signs you make." "They are quite intelligible to----" "Be quiet, boys!" said Tim, as they stopped at the door of Jack's house, "you'll get plenty of fighting without starting it now. There's going to be a Home Rule meeting to-morrow." "Where, Tim?" "In the alameda, no less. His Excellency the Lord Lieutenant is to speak to the crowd." "He'll tell a lot of lies, I expect," said Jack, sagely. "Well, he can say what he jolly well pleases. I'll lay any odds that before the week's out war will be proclaimed." He was a truer prophet than he thought. CHAPTER VIII. VIVA EL REPUBLICA. No king have we with golden crown, To tread the sovereign people down; All men are equal in our sight-- The ruler ranks but with the clown. Our symbol is the opal bright, Which darts its rays of rainbow light, Prophetic of all coming things, Of blessing, war, disaster, blight. Red glow abroad the opal flings, To us the curse of war it brings; And evil days there soon shall be, Beneath the war-god's dreaded wings. Yet knowing what we soon shall see, We'll boldly face this misery, And fight, though dark our fortunes frown, For life, and home, and liberty.