But it was evident that Don Roberto's vision was powdered with the golden dust of flattery. He smiled approvingly into Tiny's pretty face. "But I say true, and the young mens do not sometimes. It make me young again to see you here."
"One would think you were old," said Tiny. "But do you really like to see us here? Should you mind if we came sometimes in the evening? It would be such fun to meet at each other's houses and talk on the verandahs."
"Come all the evenings," said Don Roberto, promptly, "si you talk to me sometimes."
"I want to do that. Ila plays, and Rose sings beautifully. Some evening we will get up charades—to amuse you."
"On Saturday, Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday nights I am here."
"Those will be our evenings to come here." She gave a peremptory glance to Rose, who responded hurriedly, "Are you fond of music, Don Roberto? It will give me great pleasure to sing for you; and Ila has been learning some of my accompaniments."
Don Roberto did not answer for a moment. His memory had played him a trick: it had leaped back to the days of guitars and gratings. He rarely sought the society of gentlewomen, not, at least, of those whose names were on visiting lists. There was something unexpectedly sweet and fragrant in the company of these three beautiful girls. Don Roberto's memories were hanging in a dusty cupboard, and his heart had shrunken like the meat of a nut too long neglected; but there was life at the core, and the memories came forth, wanting only a breath to dust them. Yes, he should like to have these girls about him. And Magdaléna had lived the life of a hermit. It was time for her to enjoy her girlhood.
"Yes," he said, "alway I like the music. Si the piano need tune, I send one man down. You can dance, too, si you like it. Always I like see the young peoples dance."
Tiny clapped her hands. Ila leaned forward and patted his hand.
"What an inspiration!" she exclaimed. "This will be a simply gorgeous house to dance in. Don Roberto, you certainly are an angel!"