The two children ride in one chair; their mother in another. The curtains are drawn down, but Domingo peeps out as they ride through the city streets.
When they reach the cousin’s house they do not rap on the door or ring a bell. The mother claps her hands, and when the aunt sees them she says, “Enter and welcome. The house and all it contains is yours.”
Is not that a strange way of saying, “I am glad to see you. Will you come in?”
They sit in the parlor and while they talk they sip coffee from tiny cups. Before they come away they walk in the garden, where there are beautiful flowers and fountains, tall palm trees, and rubber trees with blossoms like yellow lilies.
The chair-men wait and the children ride home again, but it is dark, and they can see only the lights in the houses. The chair swings back and forth like a cradle as the men trot down the hill into the city.
They sing as they go, and the song is a low, sweet tune like a lullaby. Marikena puts her head on the cushions and almost falls asleep.
Domingo nods and dreams of the fruit and the flowers and the funny pet monkey his cousin had in the garden. Oh! the days are long and happy in Brazil, and the children have merry times.