Nancy first and last

by Amy Ella Blanchard

"And weren't you glad to find that Señor Garriguez was so ready to be friendly? Did you expect it?"

"My friend who gave me the letter did not tell me that we should find him so charming, but was, however, most urgent that I should present my letter. 'He will be of use to you; he will be of use,' said Carlotta. She is his cousin, you know, and is married to an American. I nursed her through a severe illness and we became fast friends."

"You make friends everywhere, mother dear," responded Anita and then they were back in the white house with its little garden.

They settled down cheerfully, determining to make the most of their opportunities of seeing the city and relying upon the banker to furnish them with such information as could be gathered. They explored the old streets, they visited the churches, they took excursions into the surrounding country, and between times cultivated the acquaintance of their fellow boarders. They spent long afternoons upon their sunny balcony, where they read or wrote or did fancy work. Sometimes there would be an afternoon merienda in the garden in company with Miss Ralston, the art student, the two "Perlitas," as Anita called them, with occasionally an addition in the person of the Spanish youth and on rarer occasion the Russian. They watched their neighbors in idle moments, commenting on this or that one and becoming acquainted with them through surmises.

Across the street, a door or two farther down stood a house similar to the one in which they were located. From one of the upper rooms frequently floated the strains of a violin. Sometimes it seemed that two were playing in concert. When the weather was mild and the windows were open it was possible to distinguish what was played. Anita was rather curious about the performers.

"They play well," she said one afternoon, after having listened to a spirited duet. "I wonder if they are professionals. I hear scales and exercises first thing in the morning, and late in the afternoon we generally have the two violins going together. I am going to watch." A day or two later she was rewarded by seeing an elderly man come down the steps with a violin case tucked under his arm. He stood outside waiting for a few moments, then he looked up toward the window from which the music issued. "Come along, Don," he cried, "we'll be late."

A young man's head was thrust from the window. "Coming, Uncle Bruce," came the response, and in another moment a slender youth, also carrying a violin case, joined the other man. They went off down the street together, talking animatedly.

"English," exclaimed Mrs. Beltrán, who had been watching with scarcely less interest than Anita. "Somehow I am glad of that. It gives me a home feeling. I like the looks of that lad, he was so like those we see at home. He reminded me of my young boy cousins."

"I wonder who they are," said Anita still looking after the retreating figures. "Perhaps Doña Carmen will know." She sought out their plump little hostess who had little information to give.

"They are Ingleses, señorita," she said. "So I have been told. No, they do not live there altogether. They come sometimes only. The uncle has business which brings him once or twice a year, maybe oftener. They remain two or three weeks, sometimes a month. I do not think they are professional musicians. No, I do not know the name. It is something English, something unpronounceable. Doña Dolores calls them always the Ingleses."