Donna Emilia met them on their way back through the house to the pond. “Carlotta not yet back?” she said. “She has probably driven to one of the stores. Come in, then, to drink maté. Tea here is never good, Highworth; we drink maté amargo, a bitter drink; not unlike your camomile tea, they tell me; we think it refreshing.”
Hi did not find it refreshing, but drank one little silver pipkin for the experience and a second for politeness.
V
“Is anyone coming here this afternoon?” Rosa asked. “No one, so far as I can tell,” her mother answered. “I am not asking people, because I want you to see Carlotta while you can. Besides, it is Lent; one should be quiet in Lent.”
“They are putting placards in the road,” Rosa said. “We could not read them; but they seemed to be about quiet at Easter.”
“I am glad,” Donna Emilia said. “The last exhibition of disorder disgraced our country.”
The old butler entered. “Señora,” he said, “Don Inocencio desires to speak with you, if it be your pleasure.”
“Let him come in,” she answered. “Don Inocencio, Highworth, is one of the Senators of the White party, to which we belong. He was an old friend of my husband’s.”
“Shall I not go?” Hi asked.
“No, stay, it’s very good for you,” Rosa said.