the gallery on the ground floor that looks into the _patio_. Mrs.
Steele and I are shown by a native servant (half Indian, I should
think) into a room across the court, where we make a primitive toilet.
This is the very best hotel of Mazatlan, but the guest chamber is
guiltless of carpet or rug; the one high window, grated and latticed,
looks into the narrow street. A bed heavily draped with coarse
curtains stands in one corner, and under a cracked glass giving forth
a freckled and bilious reflection stands the deal toilet-table. A tin
pan does duty for bowl, a delightful old clay carafe holds the water,
and an abalone shell contains a bit of yellow laundry soap.

With these aids to beauty we reappear refreshed and ready for the dinner
that is spread in the half-open gallery. Only a trellis thickly mantled
with grape vines is between us and the garden; indeed, over the top of
this screen I can see, as I sit at the table, the vine-leaves rise and
fall in the soft air, and the more ambitious tendrils daintily
pencilled against the red sky of that lovely Mexican evening. An odd
dinner it is; but Senor Noma makes a most courteous host, and the dishes
are certainly rare and interesting--generally peppery beyond words to
describe and most of them liberally seasoned with garlic. But the
luscious fruits, the "_vino blanco_," and champagne cool our smarting
palates and reconcile us to our gastronomic ventures. At the beginning
of the meal, out of the meditative mood that has overtaken him, Baron de
Bach rouses himself to enter into earnest conversation with the little
Mexican boy who is helping to serve us. I notice the boy's snapping
black eyes and fine oval face, and how he nods with an added gleam as
he says "_Si! si!_" to every remark of the Baron's, and finally
disappears. In a few minutes he returns and presents a large bunch of
lovely orchids to Mrs. Steele. Then he exchanges a few words with the
Baron and is off again like a shot.

"Yust to show you dthat flowers can grow here _out_ of a hospital
garden," explains the Baron, bowing across the table to my friend and
adding under his breath:

"I haf send for odthers for you, Senorita."

Towards the end of this curious dinner the Mexican boy returns with a
great round native basket piled high with roses and strange rare
flowers I have never seen before--such wonderful fantastic conceits in
bloom that I can only look and clasp my hands about the dainty store.
Mrs. Steel