The old man arose and seizing Quentin’s hand, held it between his for some time.
“I cannot see well. I’m getting blind and deaf.” And Juan burst out laughing.
“You must be getting on in years, eh?”
“Seventy-five. Ha! ha! Sit down here and dry yourself a bit. The little girl will be here soon. It’s a long time since you have seen her, isn’t it?”
“Six years.”
“Well, she’s a beauty!... A lily! And then, so affectionate! If you could see her! She is teaching the children of all the farm hands to read and to sew.”
“So you are here with her, Juan?”
“Sí, Señor, always with her. All my children are on the place. That’s what you ought to do. Señorito: come and live here.”
“If I only could,” sighed Quentin.
As they were conversing, the door opened, and Remedios came running in.