Spanish Highways and Byways

by Katharine Lee Bates

Tell me true!'

'Three mountain maidens

Of laughing look.

White went their feet

In the running brook.

One threw in roses,

And jasmine one.

One spread thy handkerchief

In the sun.'"

Spanish children "play store," of course, but they are such dramatic little creatures that they need no broken ware for their merchandise. A row of them will squat down in the middle of the street, clasp their hands under the hollow of their knees, and crook out their arms for "handles." Then a customer wanders by, asking, "Who sells honey-jars?" The merchant disrespectfully replies, "That do I, Uncle of the Torn Trousers." The shabby customer answers with Castilian dignity, "If my trousers are torn, my wife will mend them." The merchant then opens negotiations. "Will you buy a little jar of honey?" "What's your price?" The merchant is not exorbitant. "A flea and a louse." The probabilities are, unhappily, that the customer has these commodities about him, and he inclines, though cautiously, toward the bargain.