the central plum-cake, illumined his dark face.

"You remember, of course, that he does not speak English," Garda said to
Winthrop. She was alluding to her right-hand neighbor.

"Does that mean that you intend to speak Spanish to him?" said Winthrop.
"He has quite enough as it is in being next you; you should not give too
much."

"I like generosity."

"That wouldn't be generosity, but squandering; you shouldn't give at
random."

"Poor Adolfo isn't at random! But I believe you are trying to instruct
me?" she said, surveying him frankly.

"Would it displease you if I were?"

Garda paused, as if considering the point. "You might try it," she
answered. "It would at least be new, and I generally like new things.
That is the reason, you know, that I liked you; you were new."

Manuel, meanwhile, was bringing forward his finest powers for the
entertainment of Mrs. Harold, by whose side he had been placed; and if
he talked in a somewhat more decorated strain than was prevalent in the
colder circles from which she had come, it was carried off easily by his
youth, his handsome face, his animated manner. Winthrop overheard
occasionally his fervid little speeches, he did not admire them. But it
was only occasionally, for he himself was fully occupied, Garda talked
to him, or listened to him, during the entire time they remained at the
table. And this was over two hours; there were many delicious things to
be eaten, or at least tasted, for Mrs. Carew's Cynthy, having been one
of the good cooks of the old days before the war, was still in
possession of a remnant of her former skill. As these "old days" lay but
six years back, it would seem that Cynthy must have worked hard to
forget all but a remnant, in so short a time. She had, however,
succeeded perfectly, and only upon great occasions, like the present,
would she condescend to revert to her ancient knowledge, as a favor to
"Miss Betty," whose fortunes were so sadly fallen. Cynthy and Pompey had
accompanied their young mistress from her Georgia home to the new one in
Florida many years before; they now remained with her for the excellent
reason that, owing to age and infirmities, it would have been impossible
for them to have found a home or employment elsewhere. This, however,
they never acknowledged, they spoke of their fidelity as a weakness of
which they were rather ashamed; but "dat poor Miss Betty, she nebber get
'long widout us nohow, Pomp, dat's a fac'." In reality