pt
from the roof-top, where the washing dried: there were no windows, the
rooms depending for light upon double doors opening on to the tiny tiled
patio--except in our own case, where the second room allotted to us was
built over the top of the street, and had two windows cut in the walls by
the Spanish occupants, neither of which quite shut, and provided us with
an ample supply of air. The room beyond possessed dilapidated doors,
which gave upon the patio. The patio was, of course, open to all the rain
of heaven as well as to all the sun: it was the principal sitting-room of
the family, where, downstairs, on fine days, they plucked chickens, made
bread, washed, sat and received callers, did needlework and chattered; on
wet days creeping disconsolately round the lake of water in the middle of
the tiled floor, where the rain dropped--splash--taking refuge on one
sheltered seat in company with three dogs, a cat, and a tame chicken, or
retiring into the dark little rooms which surrounded the lake.

The family comprised Spanish parents, married daughter and husband, three
unmarried sisters, a brother, and a lodger--an old Spanish music-master.
The fonda was run by the married daughter, a lady with a temper, who made
everybody else work: her mother and one sister cooked; the second sister
was busy with a trousseau and a young man; the third and
prettiest--Amanda--waited on us. On the whole we were not uncomfortable,
in spite of the Spanish element. Our rooms were clean: one afternoon we
found a chicken sunning itself in a patch of sunlight on the floor of
one--nothing worse. Dinner was sometimes, and Amanda was always, lacking
in certain points to a critical eye. Sometimes it was a skirt, sometimes
a petticoat, she wore: except on high days, it was doubtful and dependent
upon chance threads and pins. All Amanda's blouses were low-necked,
whatever the time of day: the stains and slits and remnants of torn
frills were unique. She wore her sleeves turned up, and silver bangles on
her arms. Amanda never buttoned her boots, and often put in an appearance
with bare feet.

But Amanda was redeemed by her head-dress and her manners. She wound a
crimson shawl gracefully over her dark head, after the fashion of a
mantilla, with an effect beyond reproach. Amanda had a gracious way of
putting things: she bore herself with infinite dignity, and a
_je-ne-sais-quoi_ which pointed to a mixed ancestry; she had well-shaped
hands.

At seven