“No; we never told Mr. Martinez where we were going, or mentioned the major’s name, so of course he had no way of knowing that we were coming here. It is curious, though,” she went on thoughtfully, “our meeting him here. I wonder when he arrived?”
“Yesterday, I suppose,” replied Miss Sallie. “Or it may have been this morning. However, it doesn’t make any difference. I am glad, at least, that a friend of ours can show him some hospitality in return for his courageous act.”
By this time they had reached the top of the stairs and had a glimpse of another hall corresponding to the one below, at one end of which was a great casement window with a broad cushioned window-seat under it. The other end, where the stairs turned, was lighted by an enormous stained glass window.
Little exclamations of rapture escaped the girls as they tripped over the softly carpeted floors to their rooms, which were on the left side of the hall. Opposite were the major’s rooms, so Mary explained, while the young men were all quartered in the right wing except Mr. Martinez, who had a room at the end of the hall on the same side as the major’s suite.
“I could live and die in a house like this, and never want to leave it,” cried Bab, her eyes sparkling with pleasure as Mary opened the door leading to the room that had been assigned to Ruth and her.
They could have a room apiece, if they wished it, the housekeeper said, but when it was discovered that this would necessitate two of the girls taking rooms in the right wing, many passages and corridors away from the others, all said they would rather share the rooms on the main hall. Mary looked somewhat relieved at this. It was evident she was not in favor of the right wing for the girls, either; although she did not explain her reasons.
In the large old-fashioned bedrooms, hung with chintz curtains and furnished with mahogany that would have been the joy of the antique dealers, were already placed the boxes and satchels of the automobilists. Two neat housemaids were engaged in unpacking their things and placing them in the drawers of the massive highboys and wardrobes.
“Bab,” exclaimed Ruth, giving her friend an affectionate little shake, “this is worth two highwaymen and a night in a Gypsy camp. I feel as if I were in an English country house. I feel we are going to have a perfectly wonderful time. And, somehow, the young Spaniard adds muchly to the whole thing. He seems to belong in the midst of carved oak and Persian rugs, doesn’t he, Barbara, dear? As he stood on those steps he looked like an old Spanish portrait. All he needed was a velvet cape, a sword and a plumed hat.”
“Well, that seems a good deal to complete the picture, considering he was wearing an ordinary pepper and salt suit,” observed Barbara.
“I don’t believe you like Senor José Martinez,” said Ruth.