"As for Sir Percival Kaye-Templeman and ... and Her Ladyship," added the monk, suddenly becoming hazy as to the status of a baronet's daughter, "I am indeed happy to have such neighbors. We place our services, such as they are, entirely at their Excellencies' disposal; and at Madame Baxter's also. Mr. Crowberry, you are aware, sir, that I used to work in the abbey vineyards, over seven years ago. I knew all the monks. I knew the old Abbot. He was a saint. He died a day or two after they turned him out, at Navares, the little town you passed through this morning. So it is natural I should have a great deal of reverence for the old place. And I am thankful, more thankful than words can express, that it has passed to owners who will not hold so sacred a spot in disrespect. Often and often I have feared for its fate."
An awkward silence followed Antonio's speech. Mr. Crowberry fidgeted in his chair. Isabel colored warmly, and Sir Percy straightened his back more stiffly than ever. Suddenly young Crowberry came to the rescue with a comical wail.
"What about Me?" he asked. "I'm a guest, and you haven't praised Me? Why ain't I a jolligoodfellow, too?"
"You are already jolly and, some day, I hope you will be good," said Antonio, smiling good-humoredly at his pupil. "Ladies and gentlemen, with my whole heart, I drink to you all."
Everybody turned to Sir Percy. He seemed desirous of responding, but something held him down. Young Crowberry sprang into the breach once more.
"Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking," he said, rising, "I will nevertheless, however, try to attempt to endeavor to thank you on behalf of us all. Now for my own toast. The Ladies—God bless 'em. Senhor, I believe you have on your right a Lady Abbess who will give you every satisfaction. If, however, Her Ladyship should fail in anything, you have only to report the matter to Madame Baxter. I drain my glass to the Ladies."
The four men drank. Isabel darted a grateful glance at young Crowberry, as if to thank him for delivering her from a painful situation; but he did not see it. Mrs. Baxter sat up, gasped, blushed, and managed to say:
"I am sure, Mr. Edward, we are very much obliged."
"Last not least, here's to José, the cook," cried young Crowberry, and, raising his voice, he called through the door in Portuguese: "Hola, José, how the devil are we to drink your health when there isn't any more wine?"
After José had been toasted and had saluted in response, Antonio suggested that he had detained his visitors too long, and that they were doubtless wishing to see more of their new home before dark. Sir Percy seemed grateful. Pulling himself together, he acknowledged the monk's hospitality with almost excessive earnestness, and pressed him to come often to the abbey. They walked together to the road.