"I know you two are saying something very clever," said Mrs. Brimmer,
whose small French slippers and silk stockings were beginning to show
their inadequacy to a twilight ramble in the fog; "but I am so slow, and
I never catch the point. Do repeat it slowly."
"The Senor was only showing us how they managed to shut up a smooth bore
in this country," said Crosby gravely. "I wonder when we're going
to have dinner. I suppose old Don Quixote will trot out some of his
Senoritas. I want to see those choir girls that sang so stunningly a
while ago."
"I suppose you mean the boys--for they're all boys in the Catholic
choirs--but then, perhaps you are joking again. Do tell me if you are,
for this is really amusing. I may laugh--mayn't I?" As the discomfited
humorist fell again to the rear amidst the laughter of the others, Mrs.
Brimmer continued naively to Senor Perkins,--"Of course, as Don Miguel
is a widower, there must be daughters or sisters-in-law who will meet
us. Why, the priest, you know--even he--must have nieces. Really, it's
a serious question--if we are to accept his hospitality in a social
way. Why don't you ask HIM?" she said, pointing to the green-jacketed
subaltern who was accompanying them.
Senor Perkins looked half embarrassed.
"Repeat your question, my dear lady, and I will translate it."
"Ask him if there are any women at the Presidio."
Senor Perkins drew the subaltern aside. Presently he turned to Mrs.
Brimmer.
"He says there are four: the wife of the baker, the wife of the saddler,
the daughter of the trumpeter, and the niece of the cook."
"Good heavens! we can't meet THEM," said Mrs. Brimmer.
Senor Perkins hesitated.
"Perhaps I ought to have told you," he said blandly, "that the old
Spanish notions of etiquette are very strict. The wives of the officials
and higher classes do not meet strangers on a first visit, unless they
are well known."
"That isn't it," said Winslow, joining them excitedly. "I've heard the
whole story. It's a good joke. Banks has been bragging about us all, and
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