you're going through wild
country where automobiles are seldom seen. If peasants are inclined to
throw stones, the sight of a good skin of wine should soften them. And
what true man would risk damaging a wineskin?"

That fairy godmother, Dona Rosita, conceived a fancy for Dick, who flirted
with her in his bad Spanish so outrageously that she was delighted. He
made her feel young again, she said, and it was a shock to find that he
was an American. She had not forgiven America for the Cuban war, which she
had not understood in the least. "But _you_ are not wicked!" she
exclaimed. "I thought all American men were wicked, and would do anything
for money. _Ay de mi!_ I must again pardon Columbus for discovering your
country, I suppose; though I have often said in these last years, how much
better if he had left it alone. I used to stop in my carriage near the
Cristobal Colon statue in the Prado, when the war was on, and laugh to
watch the people throw things, because they were annoyed with him for the
trouble he had brought. Yet now I see there's something to thank him for,
after all." This last with a look at Dick which must have melted his
American heart like water if she had been of the age of Pilarcita. But
what would she have said had she known that--indirectly--Columbus had sent
to Spain a rival for her adored Cipriano?

Ignorance being bliss, the delightful mother and son were a hostess and a
host almost too hospitable.

As if the hampers stowed in the car were not enough, a tremendous
breakfast on a table loaded with flowers was provided for us. But just as
we sat down, at ten o'clock, a servant on duty as scout appeared, panting
after a scamper across fields, to say that a motor had passed. Our
chauffeur sent word that it was _the_ motor; and was ready to start our
car.

This was the signal for confusion, cries of regret, wishes for good luck,
laughter, and exclamations. Pilar and the Cherub were persuaded to finish
their cups of thick chocolate, flavoured with cinnamon, while Dick and I
drank our strong coffee and left our _aguardiente_.

Off we went, in flowery Spanish speech kissing the senora's feet, while
she kissed our hands; Don Cipriano leaped upon a horse to see us off, all
his dogs about him; and ten minutes later our pneus were pressing the
track in the white dust made by the Lecomte.

We soon lost sight of gay Madrid, with its domes and spires clear cut
against the white mountains, to run through