"
"What sayest thou, good Antonio?" asked Francisco quickly, opening his
blue eyes in frank curiosity; "who is fire, and who is tow?"
The worthy muleteer, utterly abashed and confounded by this display
of the acolyte's direct simplicity, contented himself by shrugging his
shoulders, and a vague "Quien sabe?"
"Come," said the boy, gayly, "confess it is only the aguardiente of the
Blessed Fisherman thou missest. Never fear, Juanita will find thee some.
And see! here she comes."
There was a flash of white flounces along the dark brown corridor, the
twinkle of satin slippers, the flying out of long black braids, and with
a cry of joy a young girl threw herself upon Francisco as he entered the
patio, and nearly dragged him from his mule.
"Have a care, little sister," laughed the acolyte, looking at Antonio,
"or there will be a conflagration. Am I the fire?" he continued,
submitting to the two sounding kisses the young girl placed upon either
cheek, but still keeping his mischievous glance upon the muleteer.
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