Doña Benilda replied animatedly. "When comes in my son Rodrigo, he will speak in the English," she said with pride. "At once he will come," she added as she led them to their rooms. Exquisitely embroidered linen, wonderful counterpanes, blankets of the finest covered the beds, but beyond this the rooms displayed very simple furnishing.
Before long appeared Don Rodrigo, a funny looking little man who might have been of any age. He was small, dark, lean. His hair was black and bushy, his small moustache carefully waxed and turned up at the ends. With arms too short and head too big for his body, Anita told herself that he looked exactly like a boy doll. He advanced on high heels, bent low before her mother, kissed her hand and said that he kissed her feet. Before Anita he paused a moment as if wondering if he might take the cousinly privilege of kissing her upon either cheek, but observing that she gave no encouragement to this sort of greeting, he also kissed her hand and murmured that the house and its contents were hers, and that he was her cousin who kissed her feet.
But Anita, understanding little of the courtly phrases and wishing to ask questions, said: "You speak English, do you not, cousin?"
"Si, señorita, I spik a leetle," was the reply, "no mooch, enough maybe for tell you somethings you like know. I am wishing I spik baitter, but no I have the, what is this?—the oportunidad."
"The opportunity," Mrs. Beltrán came to the rescue.
"Ah, si. You also spik the Spanish. Usted habla Español?" He turned with quick relief to her.
"Tell him, mother," said Anita, "that I will help him with his English if he will help me with my Spanish."
"Bueno!" cried Rodrigo when this was explained. "Is good. I like mooch thees—thees—arreglo." He looked inquiringly at Mrs. Beltrán.
"Arrangement," she helped him to the word.
"Gracias. I like these arrangements," he said slowly and uncertainly, with much rolling of his R's.