"It is cooler, and cheaper," Carrie said, seeing Bob looking at them.
"This is your room, and this is the kitchen," and she opened the door into what seemed to Bob a tiny place, indeed.
Across one end was a mass of brickwork, rather higher than an ordinary table. Several holes, a few inches deep, were scattered about over this. In some of these small charcoal fires were burning, and pots were placed over them. There were small openings from the front, leading to these tiny fireplaces; and a Spanish girl was driving the air into one of these, with a fan, when they entered.
"This is my brother, Manola," Mrs. O'Halloran said.
The girl smiled and nodded, and then continued her work.
"She speaks English?" Bob said, as they went out.
"She belongs to the Rock, Bob. Almost all the natives here talk a little English."
"Where do these steps lead to? I thought we were at the top of the house."
"Come up and see," Carrie said, leading the way.
Following her, Bob found himself on a flat terrace, extending over the whole of the house. Several orange trees--in tubs--and many flowers, and small shrubs in pots stood upon it; and three or four light cane-work lounging chairs stood apart.