Several of our friends came to the station to see us off as is the pleasant custom of a land where people are rich, because they have time to be kind. Lucia, hospitable to the last, came followed by Gil carrying a great net basket with a roast capon, some torrones, and a bottle of Valdepeñas. Engracia, the lovely soft-eyed, willful beauty of Madrid, brought us chocolates from Paris, a characteristic gift, for she is a true Cosmopolitan: mi paisano, Robert Mason Winthrop, Secretary of the American Legation, who had been endlessly kind and added in a thousand ways to the interest of our life in Madrid, brought a bunch of wonderful Spanish carnations.
Don Jaime and Patsy were both more cast down at parting than either wished the other to realize.
“Come and see us in America, Don,” said Patsy, “We will give you the time of your life.”
“Though I would like to take another climate,” said the Don, “I have not the dinero fresco, fresh money as you say. I have not the habitude to spend very mooch to voyage; I could not justificate the emprize at present.”
“Where is Villegas?” asked J.
“There he comes,” said little Don Luis, the Valencian, “bearing the flowers of San José.”
Villegas was hurrying along the platform with a great sheaf of annunciation lilies in his arms.
“Adios, adios,” we cried from the window as the train began to move.
“No, no!” came a cordial chorus from the platform.