'For shame, Angel!' said Robin; 'the Aztecs were not cannibals.'
'I beg your pardon, Bobbie; I know we read about Cortes seeing them cutting out people's hearts on their temples like the tower of Babel, because I thought of Fernan.'
'Hush!' said Cherry, seeing that the horrid subject was displeasing. 'There's nothing witty in talking of horrors. Besides, is not this the Spanish olla?'
'I believe it is,' answered Ferdinand. 'It is the Mendez bearing, and as the Travises can boast of none, I followed my spoons.'
'With the dish,' said Mr. Somers; a joke that in their present mood set them laughing.
'Nothing can be more suited to the circumstances,' said Cherry, 'as the olla is the emblem of hospitality.'
'What are the three things up above?' asked Angel; 'turnips going to be stewed?'
'Santiago's cockle-shells, the token of pilgrimage,' said Ferdinand. 'That's the best part of the coat.'
'Some day I'll work you a banner-screen, Fernan,' said Robina; 'but that will be when you impale our Underwood rood.'
'And the pilgrim is brought to the cross,' said Angela, in one of her grave moments of fanciful imagery.