[Illustration: “PATTY CREPT BEHIND THE HEDGE AND WAITED.”]
_THE
GLAD LADY_
_BY_
_AMY E. BLANCHARD
Author of “A Journey of Joy,” “Wits’ End,” etc._
[Illustration: colophon]
_BOSTON
DANA ESTES & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS_
_Copyright, 1910_,
BY DANA ESTES & COMPANY
_All rights reserved_
_Presswork by
THE COLONIAL PRESS
C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, U.S.A._
TO
DOÑA MARTINA AND DON JUAN,
THOSE WELL-LOVED FRIENDS WHO HAVE MADE SPAIN
FOR ME A HAPPY MEMORY, I DEDICATE THIS STORY
A. E. B.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE PARTY ARRIVES 9
II. A MOUNTAIN TOWN 21
III. THE WALK 35
IV. ANTIQUITIES 48
V. MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME 61
VI. THE DAY OF SAN JUAN 76
VII. THE INXANOS 90
VIII. A ROMERIA 105
IX. ONLY A DONKEY 119
X. SANTA MARIA MARINA 133
XI. GIPSIES 148
XII. TOMÁS TELLS 163
XIII. THE LONG WHITE ROAD 178
XIV. THE SILVER MERCHANT 192
XV. A LONELY HILL 206
XVI. BY REASON OF SAINT ANTHONY 221
XVII. PATTY IS PUZZLED 235
XVIII. WAITING 249
XIX. DON FELIPE’S SURPRISE 264
XX. THE THREE WISHES 281
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
“PATTY CREPT BEHIND THE HEDGE AND WAITED”
(page 236) _Frontispiece_
“‘HE SAYS I AM A GLAD LADY’” 33
“‘DON’T YOU GET HOMESICK?’” 70
“PERDITA” 86
“‘WHAT ARE YOU BEATING THAT DONKEY FOR?’” 120
“‘AT YOUR FEET, LADIES’” 186
“‘GLAD LADY!’” 286
THE GLAD LADY
CHAPTER I
THE PARTY ARRIVES
It was at San Sebastian that the various members of the party became
an integral. When separated they were quite as dissimilar as the
constituent parts of certain chemical combinations. The company was
headed by Dr. Juan Estradas who, when a lad, had rushed to the war in
Cuba, had later gone to the United States to study medicine and had
there married an American girl, known in this tale as Doña Martina.
Number three is represented by Don Tomás, the doctor’s younger brother,
who, having always remained upon Spanish soil, spoke no language but
Castilian, unless the two expressions, “Shocking” and “Awful badth
form,” may be said to display some knowledge of English. Number four
may be discerned in the person of Miss Patience Blake, commonly known
as Patty, the pretty sister of Doña Martina. A schoolmate of Miss
Patty’s, one Paulette Delambre, completes the number.
The two girls had just arrived from a convent in France, where they had
been learning various branches supposed to be useful to young ladies: a
little embroidery, some music and water-color sketching; to these, in
Patty’s case, was added French. Neither girl knew more than three words
of Spanish and generally addressed one another in French, although
Paulette spoke English fairly well. They had but just reached their
hotel, Patty in a heated frame of mind because the customs officers
at Irun had kept them so long over their luggage that they had nearly
missed their train, and furthermore had questioned the presence of so
many new frocks.
“They actually assailed my veracity,” she explained to her sister, “and
it didn’t help a bit when some one said that probably they thought we
were dressmakers. Do we look like dressmakers, I want to know? I wish
we had never seen your stupid old Spain.”
She turned to Don Tomás, who simply beamed upon her, not understanding
a word she said. But seeing a fitting occasion to air his English, he
remarked, “Shocking! Awful badth form.” Then every one laughed, which
cleared the air, and the five entered their hotel in better spirits.
Patty’s first act, after reaching her room, was to take off her hat
and fluff out her dark hair; it was Paulette who displayed rings of
red gold about her forehead and whose eyes were blue. “They always
take me for the French one,” remarked Patty, “and Paulette is always
supposed to be the American by everyone but her own countrymen. It is
rather convenient sometimes, for I hear very free criticisms of things
United States. By the way, Tina, you haven’t told us one word about
your plans. You simply wrote that we were to spend the summer in the
north of Spain and that I needn’t be afraid of melting. You’ve prinked
enough, Polly, let me come.”
“We shall stay for a day or two in San Sebastian,” replied Doña
Martina, “and then we shall go further along the coast to a place in
the mountains or by the sea, whichever you choose to say. It is one of
the old family houses of the Estradas, and the doctor thinks it will be
an ideal spot to summer in. We have spent a little time there and he is
so enthusiastic that I have become so, too. I hope you all will like
it, Patty.”
Patty looked over her shoulder rather ruefully. “What in the world can
we find to do? Don’t tell me I shall not have a chance to air my Paris
frocks.”
“That is a small consideration,” said her sister. “We shall have such
air as you never breathed. We shall see such scenery as will delight
your soul, and we shall do things we never did before.”
“What things?” inquired Patty, pulling down her belt and trying to
look at the back of her trim figure.
“Oh, we shall have a mountain pony or a burro to take us junketing
around to all the neighboring villages; we shall go to all the fiestas,
make a trip to Covadonga; visit all the old churches and monasteries;
go fishing; take a daily dip in the sea if we like, and--What more do
you want, Patty?”
“Men,” replied Patty sententiously.
“Well, there is Tomás.”
“I didn’t say _a_ man, nor _the_ man; I said men. One man won’t go
around when there are two girls.”
“You want too much,” replied her sister. “However, I can’t say what you
may find before the summer is over. I’ll venture to say if there is a
desirable man within a radius of fifty miles he will pop out of a cave
or from the sea when you come in sight; it is always that way.”
Patty laughed. “Tell me about Don Tomás.”
“I wrote to you all I know about him. Juan says he is a single-hearted
unspoiled boy. Remember, Patty, that I have made my brother-in-law’s
acquaintance only within the last few days, and Juan had not seen him
for ten years till about a month ago. He was only fourteen when his
brother left home.”
“So he is twenty-four now. He is rather nice looking, but I didn’t know
Spaniards ever had red hair. He might be an Irishman, or anything. I
am disappointed that he hasn’t melting dark eyes and shining black
hair.”
“I should think you would like a contrast. You see dark eyes and hair
every time you look in the glass, and that is often enough, heaven
knows.”
“You needn’t laugh, Polly,” said Patty, turning to Paulette, who showed
her appreciation of this last remark by a gay little giggle. “There
is one thing consoling about it: he may like contrasts, and unless he
is already satiated with dark Spanish types he perchance will admire
little Patty Blake.”
“He hasn’t a penny; at least he has very little,” returned Doña Martina
quickly.
“That wouldn’t prevent his admiring me,” retorted Patty calmly. “I
didn’t say I wanted to marry him offhand.”
“You are a fleert incorrigible,” said Paulette, coming into the
conversation.
“I am sure I don’t know where you have made your observations, surely
not at the convent,” Patty remarked.
“I use my ear, not my eye alone, and I am sorree for zat nice young
man.”
“Oho!” Patty turned to look at her quizzically. “I see I must be
polishing up my armor. Come on, girls, let us go down. Juan told us not
to be too long, and we want to see what we can of the outside world
before we go into retreat.”
“You talk as if you were going back to the convent,” said her sister.
“You know it will not be like that. Weren’t you happy there, Patty?”
She put her arm affectionately across her sister’s shoulder.
“Oh, yes, happy enough, but one can get tired even of a good thing. I
am glad not to be going back.”
“I wish we could stay a long time here at San Sebastian, if you would
like that,” returned her sister wistfully, “but you know we aren’t
rich, Patty, and this is a very expensive place for persons of our
means.”
“Bless you, honey,” whispered Patty giving her a hug; “I’m only
fooling, Tina. I don’t really care a rap about staying. I am sure it
will be far nicer, much more romantic, and distinctly more interesting
to go to that queer mountain place that nobody ever hears about much
less goes to. Don’t mind my nonsense; I am only showing off before
Polly. Don’t you think she is rather nice considering that she has
money? Would you ever suspect it?”
“She seems very nice, and, no, I shouldn’t suspect. One doesn’t usually
expect a fact of that kind to be very apparent in one who is truly a
lady, you know.”
“Of course. I know that, but she hasn’t any people, you see, and
doesn’t come of the aristocracy. She has a stuffy old shopkeeping uncle
or guardian or something of that kind, but I never heard her speak
of anyone else belonging to her. She was so delighted when you said
she might come. She is the nicest French girl of the whole bunch and
there were plenty to choose from at the convent. I find, Tina, that it
doesn’t make much difference about nationality: it is just individuals.”
“I’ve found that out, too,” responded Doña Martina, “otherwise I should
never have married Juan.”
“He is a dear,” Patty agreed, “so generous and courteous, and the soul
of honor.”
“And he is so constant and faithful, dear soul. Indeed, Patty, I might
have gone far afield in many a country and never have met a finer man.”
“So glad you’re pleased, dear,” returned Patty lightly. “Now, if you
are ready, let us go down and see the world, the flesh, and the devil.”
“The world is out on the Esplanade; there is plenty of flesh there,
too, you will find, while, to quote Emerson, ‘even the dear old devil
is not far off.’”
Patty laughed and the sisters returned to the room where they had left
Paulette, then the three descended to the corridor to find Don Juan
and his brother pacing up and down talking earnestly and with many
gestures. “Are they quarrelling already?” asked Patty, pausing on the
lower step and looking after the two men.
“Quarrelling? No, of course not,” Doña Martina answered with a smile.
“That is only a little way they have when they are interested. It may
be only the weather of which they are talking.”
“Never,” declared Patty. “I am enthusiastic myself, but I never could
get up such an intensity of expression, such violence of action over
such a simple matter as the weather.”
“You’re not a Spaniard,” returned her sister.
“Let us ask them the subject of their discourse and settle it at once,”
proposed Patty; “it would be interesting to know.”
They advanced toward the two men, who now hurried forward with
apologies for not having seen them sooner.
“And what were you talking about that you couldn’t see us?” Patty asked
Don Juan.
“What? Let me see, what. Simple matters enough; of what we may be
having for luncheon, of the report that we shall have rain to-night.”
Doña Martina brought her hands softly together. “What did I tell you?”
she exclaimed with a nod toward her sister. “I said it might be the
weather.”
“Yes, but the other subject: luncheon, warranted any amount of
excitement,” returned Patty as they all turned toward the dining-room.
An hour later the party was included in the throng which promenaded
the Esplanade. To Patty’s share fell Don Tomás as escort. “It is
very beautiful,” said the girl with a wave of the hand toward the
rock-encircled harbor.
“Shocking,” replied Don Tomás with a desire to say something his
companion could understand.
“Oh, no, not at all.” Patty turned to speak to her sister. “Come here,
Tina, and walk with us; we need a translator.”
Doña Martina joined the two.
“Tell him,” said Patty, “that I will teach him English if he will teach
me Spanish.”
Her sister bent a searching look upon the girl’s innocently grave face.
“Very well,” she said. “He agrees,” she went on after a few words in
Spanish to her brother-in-law.
“Is he delighted at my gracious suggestion? He ought to be.”
“Why, any more than you?”
“Because he is a man.”
“That is no reason.”
“It is to me. All right, Tina, you may go back to your husband. We
shall get along now, no doubt, since he knows what is expected of him.”
“I shall walk with you two,” said Doña Martina firmly. “You are not to
be trusted.”
“Oh nonsense! You can keep your stern eye upon us all you like, but
I shall be embarrassed if you are listening to my faltering tongue
lisping in Castilian. Go back or Juan will be jealous.”
“What a silly speech. However, I will go because I want to, and
because it is reasonable to believe you will get on better if I am not
listening.”
In a few minutes there was low laughter heard from the two, who plunged
into a halting conversation, and it was evident that the progress was
pleasant if not rapid.
It was a gay scene. Representatives from all parts of the world joined
in the crowd which watched the bathers. Nurse-maids with their charges,
Spanish girls wearing mantillas, vendors of all sorts, newsboys,
American tourists, Englishmen, Frenchmen, Moors, matadors, Spanish
dons, fat old ladies puffing along with waddling poodles, fat old men
with the visible expression of having sacrificed normal proportions
to good living, wicked looking cavaliers with black moustachios, and
in their eyes the smouldering flames of burnt-out fires, prattling
children, innocent school-girls with their governesses, romping
school-boys passed and repassed in endless parade. It was, as Patty
said, a corner of the universe where the world, the flesh and the devil
met.
“And what did you learn from Tomás?” asked Don Juan when they had
returned.
“I learned that _una señorita es maravillosa_.”
“And he?”
“Oh, he learned, ‘the aith of a ’orse.’”
“Now, Patty,” put in her sister.
“Truly, Tina, he did.”
“And nothing more?”
“Ask him,” said Patty, walking away.
Her sister followed. “Patty, I warned you that he has not a penny, not
a _perrono_.”
“Did I say I wanted his _perronos_ or even _pesetas_?”
“No, but--”
“What?”
“You mustn’t try to ensnare him.”
“Do you care more for him than for me?”
“Of course not, but I want to protect him.”
“I thought you meant to be my chaperon. How do you know but that I am
the one who needs protection?”
“I know you better than I do him.”
“Then, my dear, wait till you know him better before you take him under
your sheltering wing. He may be a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and I an
innocent lamb for all you know.”
“He is a single-hearted, unspoiled boy, as I told you, not one of those
blasé creatures you might find in Madrid or Paris, and you are not to
make him unhappy.”
“Don’t you want me to have a good time?”
“Not at the expense of someone else. I didn’t think you were
hard-hearted, Patty.”
“And all this because I taught him to say ‘the aith of a ’orse.’” Patty
spoke in an injured tone.
“If I could be sure that were all.”
“Oh, my dear, would you have me confine his English to that sentence
only? When he really wants to learn must he stop there? and must I let
him teach me nice things in Spanish while he learns only Ollendorf
English? I certainly would be hard-hearted if I tried to be as mean as
that. Trust the young man to take care of himself. As for me, like the
pussy cat in the nursery rhyme, ‘if you don’t hurt her she’ll do you
no harm.’ Now, Tina, dear, don’t get into agonies over me. I’m not as
dreadful as I appear upon first sight, and your dear little red-headed
Tomás shall not break his nice warm Spanish heart. I’ll be a good girl,
Tina, truly and--No I won’t tell you that, it would be too great a blow
to my self-esteem if you should agree with me. I’ll tell Polly. Where
is she?”
What she had to tell Paulette Tina did not find out, but whatever it
was, certain it appeared that Paulette’s eyes fell before a stolen
glance Tomás gave her as she took her seat opposite him at table that
evening.