, convinced that it would add to
the dignity of his appearance--as it certainly did. For there was
nothing commonplace or horizontal in the position of that hat; the
vender had illustrated how it was to be worn, but Telano, fired by the
new ambitions of emancipation, had practised in secret before his glass
until he had succeeded in getting the Turmrer so far back on his curly
head that it was not on the top at all, but applied flatly and
perpendicularly behind, so that the gazer's mind lost itself in
possibilities as to the methods of adhesion which he must have employed
to keep it in place. His mistresses seated, Telano sprang to the little
seat behind them, where, with folded arms, he sat stiffly erect,
conscious of the Turmrer, showing the whites of his eyes, happy.
Margaret lifted the reins, and smiling a good-bye to Garda, who was
standing on the outside stairway, drove down Pacheco Lane into the
plaza, and out of sight.

Garda still leaned on the balustrade; though left alone, she did not
take her departure. After a while she sat down on a step, and leaned her
head back against the railing; her eyes were fixed indolently upon the
sea.

"Looking across to Spain?" said Evert Winthrop's voice, ten minutes
later. He had come down the lane, his step making no sound on the mat of
low, thick green.

"No," Garda answered, without turning her eyes from the water. "If I
want Spain, I have only to send for Mr. Torres; he's Spain in person."

"Are you here alone? Where are the others?"

"Gone out to drive; I wish you had never sent for that phaeton!"

Several weeks had passed since the arrival of the northern ladies; but
it seemed more like several months, if gauged by the friendship which
had been bestowed upon them. The little circle of Gracias society had
opened its doors to them with characteristic hospitality--the old-time
hospitality of the days of better fortune; its spirit unchanged, though
the form in which it must now manifest itself was altered in all save
its charming courtesy. Mrs. Rutherford was a friend of Mrs. Carew's,
that was enough; they were all friends of Mrs. Rutherford in
consequence. Mrs. Kirby, the active little mother of Dr. Reginald,
invited them to dine with her. Mrs. Penelope Moore, the rector's wife,
though seldom able to leave her sofa, did not on that account consider
herself exempt from the present privilege of entertaining them. Madame
Ruiz, the mother of Manuel, insisted upon several