the window-seat.

"What are you looking at?" asked Lucy, coming to her side.

[Illustration: "See now," cried the Spaniard, "stand there. Ah! have you
no castanets?"

_Page 110._]

"I'm watching for the procession. Then I shall go to church with Mamma.
Look! That way we shall see it come; these two mirrors reflect
everything up and down the street."

"Are you dressed for church?" asked Lucy. "You have no hat on."

"Where does your grace come from not to know that a mantilla is what is
fit for church? Mamma is being dressed in her black silk and her black
mantilla."

"And your shoes?"

"I could not wear great, coarse, hard shoes," said the little Dona Ines;
"it would spoil my feet. Ah! I shall have time to show the Senorita what
I can do. Can your grace dance?"

"I danced with Uncle Joe at our last Christmas party," said Lucy, with
great dignity.

"See now," cried the Spaniard; "stand there. Ah! have you no castanets?"
and she quickly took out two very small ivory shells or bowls, each pair
fastened together by a loop, through which she passed her thumb so that
the little spoons hung on her palm, and she could snap them together
with her fingers.

Then she began to dance round Lucy in the most graceful swimming way,
now rising, now falling, and cracking her castanets together at
intervals. Lucy tried to do the same, but her limbs seemed like a wooden
doll's compared with the suppleness and ease of Ines. She made sharp
corners and angles, where the Spaniard floated so like a sea-bird that
it was like seeing her fly or float rather than merely dance, till at
last the very watching her rendered Lucy drowsy and dizzy, and as the
church bells began to ring, and the chant of the procession to sound,
she lost all sense of being in sunny Malaga, the home of grapes.

CHAPTER XIV.

GERMANY.

[Illustration: "What are you about, little boy?"

_Page 114._]

THERE was a great murmur and buzz of learning lessons; rows upon rows of
little boys were sitting before desks, studying; very few heads looked
up as Lucy found herself walking round the room--a large clean room,
with maps hanging on the walls, but hot and weary-feeling, because there
were no windows open and so little fresh air.

"What are you about, little boy?" she asked.

"I am learning my verb," he said; "_moneo_, _mones_, _monet_."

Lucy waited no longer, but moved off to another desk. "And what are you
doing?"

"I am writing my analysis.