"My mother allows me to climb trees and eat bananas," said Affonzo. "That was not a disobedience, but—"
"But what?" demanded his father.
"But," continued Affonzo slowly. "She had at the hour of the siesta requested me to keep quiet."
"Do you call this quiet?" asked his father sternly though his eyes twinkled. "Such a noise has not been heard at the Fazenda for many days."
"Not very quiet," said Affonzo, his head drooping, though he could scarce keep from laughing again. "I ask your pardon, my uncle," he added. "I intended nothing of disrespect. I did but lose my hold upon the tree and the next thing I knew I sat astride of your august shoulders. I pray you pardon me." Affonzo's tone was contrite, and his dancing eyes were on the ground.
"Say no more of it," said his uncle, as he laid his hand on the boy's head. "Boys will be boys and Affonzo is not unlike others. But next time I come do not receive me with such a fierce embrace. Indeed I thought my neck was broken with the warmth of your welcome."
Affonzo's laugh rang out gaily, but he sobered down when his father said, "I excuse you since your uncle asks it, but remember after this that the commands of your mother are to be obeyed. Go now with your uncle and attend to his wants while he repairs the damage your carelessness has wrought."
Affonzo bowed to his father and made the military salute as all school boys are taught to do in Brazil, but he sighed to himself as he went, "I wonder what he meant about Juan but I am afraid to ask. And the worst of it all is, that now I shall never know how the American melon tasted."