In spite of having pillowed for weeks on Ramsey, Hays never could remember that Castilian trousers come singly.
“Un par, señor!” cried the tailor, “Ah, no, that is impossible so soon. I can make you a trouser by then, but not two of them. Then, while you are wearing the one, I can perhaps make the other, if the señor is in such haste.”
“Oh, all right,” said Hays, suddenly recalling that trousers are—I mean is—singular in Spanish, “go ahead. I’ll try to get along with one over Sunday.”
The error persisted, however. It was not three days later that he was halted at the door of his lodgings by a whining beggar.
“Una caridad, caballero! Have you not perhaps some old clothes to give a poor unfortunate?”
A view of Quito, backed by the Panecillo that bottles it up on the south. There are six conventos in sight
A patio of the Monastery of San Francisco, one of the eighteen monasteries and convents of Quito, said to be the most extensive in the Western Hemisphere
“Sure,” said the generous ex-corporal of police. “I’ll bring you down a pair of trousers.”