At that point there pierced through all the tumult of the courtyard the shrill tones of Tia Marta.
“Pilarica! Rafael! What have you bandits done with my children? Smoked sardines of Galicia that you are! Of all the rascally—”
A roar of laughter cut her sentence short.
“Here Aunt Anna Hardbread comes again to throw a cat in our faces.”
“Look out for her! Old straw soon kindles.”
“Call us names and you’ll be sorry. Though we wear sheepskin, we’re no sheep.”
“Is it true that Dame Spitfire is going with us?”
“Bad news is always true.”
“Give her civil words, then. A teased cat may turn into a lion.”
“Señora, may your joys increase—and your tongue shorten!”