ed. Pilar go to bed at half-past ten on her first night in
Madrid after months of absence? Not she. Her father was willing to bet
that she was at her window looking down upon the street, and wishing she
had been born a man that she might be in it. "Night is the time for
amusement in Madrid," said he. "One can lie in bed till afternoon without
missing anything; but at night--that is the time to be alive here! And
though our home is in the southern country, when we are in Madrid my Pilar
and I, we are true Madrilenos. Had she and I been alone, she would have
made me take her to the theatre or circus. We should not have got home
till one: and then I should have had to give her supper. Oh, she will be
enchanted when I call her back to life!"

With that he trotted off, and before it seemed that he could have
explained anything, he had brought Pilar to us in triumph, her hat on her
head, dimples in her cheeks, and stars in her eyes. "I'm ready!" she
exclaimed.

"Ready?" I echoed. "For what?"

"Why to drive with you all to Don Cipriano's! What else? We mustn't lose a
minute, or our bad fairy will have time to work some other evil charm
before we've remedied the first. Oh, I may be only a girl, and not of
importance; but Don Cipriano thinks me important, and I shall have to be
there to make smiles at him. He has a Gloria, and it is twenty-four
horse-power. Father sent to order a carriage while I put on my hat and
coat. Don Cipriano's place is only half an hour out of Madrid, even with a
'simon.' He breeds horses, and oh, such dogs! Come along--come along!"

"At this time of night?" said Dick. "He'll think we're mad!"

"It's always early till to-morrow morning in Madrid," laughed Pilar. "Ah,
how nice to have an excitement!"

"He won't be at home," said Dick.

"Yes, he will. San Cristobal will keep him there."

Before we knew what we were doing, this small Spanish whirlwind had swept
us downstairs in her train, into the vehicle which had actually arrived,
and out into the midst of a night-scene as lively as a fair. Many shops
were open and brilliantly illuminated. Cafe windows blazed like diamonds;
half the population of Madrid was in the streets, and a stranger might
have thought that something unusual had happened; but Pilar assured us it
was "always like that." "You can live in the street if you like, in
Madrid," said she, "and I should think lots of quite charming people do.
There are sweets and fruit when you're hung