ardian,
only his humble wife. In fact he calls me his chattel. I object to the
term. We did not expect any one here to-day, and he has just gone out to
do a little commission."

But we discovered that this was a stretch of the imagination. In reality
the old man, seized with a fit of laziness, was only then dressing. He
appeared on the scene almost at once, somewhat to his spouse's
confusion. But she made the best of it, and patting her capacious apron
and stiffening her neck, walked off with a proud step and a jaunty air
to her special quarters.

"We have had no one here for a fortnight," said the guardian. "I began
to think we might advertise ourselves as closed for the winter season,
like the seaside casinos. Quite worn out with doing nothing, I thought I
might as well spend the morning in bed for a change. Of course just as
an umbrella brings sunshine, so my staying in bed brought visitors."

"But your wife said that you had gone out to do a commission," cried
Francisco, with all a boy's direct statement of the truth.

"Did she indeed now," replied the old guardian calmly. "That was
over-zeal on her part; done with a good motive, but still wrong. I shall
have to chastise her."

"How shall you do it?" asked Francisco. "Beat her?"

"We don't beat women, young senor," replied the guardian severely. "My
chastisement takes the form of admonition."

"When I wanted punishing, my father used to beat me with a cane,"
returned Francisco. "I don't think admonition would have done me any
good at all. I don't suppose it will do your wife any good. On the very
next occasion she'll tell another white lie. Much better give her a
caning and have done with it."

"Did your father ever cane his wife?" asked the old man drily.

"She would have been much more likely to cane him," returned Francisco
emphatically. "Does your wife beat you?"

The old man felt he was getting the worst of it; was being driven into a
corner by this enfant terrible; and took refuge in silence.

This interesting conversation took place just inside the doorway, where
we found ourselves lost in the beauty of the scene. A court with round
arches on either side resting on pillars with small capitals. Above them
the walls were in their rough, rude state, full of picturesque decay,
but here as in many parts of the interior much had been restored.
Nevertheless, so much of the original remains that the restoration does
not offend. It has been well done. Bef