"An old woman was sunning herself
And studying the almanac:
From time to time she said,
'The moon is waning already.'"
Aunt S. No, señor, it isn't that. God and his dear mother do not take away our flesh, but the child when he is born, and the mother when she dies; and my son—my own life—
Uncle R. There, Chana, don't mention Juan, the big hulk, with more ribs than a frigate.[81]
Aunt S. Don't believe it, señor; he just talks to hear himself, and don't know what he's saying. That boy of mine is more gentle and reasonable; he wouldn't say scat to the cat. He has served in the army six years, and has got his lights snuffed.[82]
Uncle R. His lights are those of midnight. He entered the uniform, but the uniform hasn't entered him.[83]
Don F. But what is the trouble, Aunt Sebastiana?
Aunt S. Señor, he can't get work.
Don F. Oh! I'll give him work, if you'll tell me a story.
Aunt S. My man, here, would do it better. Your worship knows that he has the name of being such a good story-teller. He never wants for a tale.
Don F. That is true; but to-day he's not in a talking mood.