puchero. After that came fruit and coffee.

Guillerma chatted continuously of the wonderful new gowns which she had seen being packed at the great house in Calle San Martin, where she had been the day before, to bid her aunt and six cousins good-bye, before their departure for Mar-de-la-Plata, the fashionable watering place on the Atlantic Ocean, a day's ride by rail from Buenos Aires.

Meanwhile, as they sat thus, eating and talking, over in the great house of the Coronel[2] the master sat at his massive library table playing solitaire. He always ended his meals thus with his after-dinner coffee-cup beside him. The walls were lined with well-filled bookcases, for the Colonel was a scholar.

Indeed, he cared little for the gay life that ebbed and flowed about him because of his high social position, and because of the six comely daughters, ranging from fourteen to twenty-four; the eldest ones of whom were favourites in exclusive Buenos Aires society. He suffered it because of his love for them, but his natural fondness for quiet and study led him to think longingly of the large estate in the Province of Santa Fé, where he could spend the remaining years of his life in the free open air, enjoying the quiet and solitude he so loved. But the daughters must be educated and their mother did not like the country, so the Colonel was forced to live through the winter months in the noise and roar of the great city; contenting himself with a few months each summer at the estate, when he rode at will over the wide prairies on his swift Argentine horse, or read for hours under the shade of the wide spreading ombú trees which surrounded the country house. This estáncia, as they term a very large farm or ranch, was really his wife's; in fact, so was the city house, for no retired colonel's pay, nor general's pay, for that matter, could have met the expenses of his large family, accustomed to every luxury; indeed, it was just enough to cover his own personal expenses, and provide a living for his widowed sister, who had been left penniless, but dared not earn her own living, since the custom of the country forbids women of class to do work of any kind.

His matronly wife with her six daughters (large families are the rule among these Latin Americans) had left the evening before, with several French maids, for Mar-de-la-Plata to spend the entire summer; he would be detained in the city for two weeks, and then—for freedom and the life he loved.

But he was strangely lonely; the house echoed his and the servants' footfalls with an intensity that made him nervous; the pillared corridors rang with no merry girlish laughter, and the luxuriantly furnished patio with its marble floors, and softly pattering fountains, seemed to mock him of his loneliness. Always before, he had left for the estáncia before his family had gone to Europe or the seashore for their summer outing, and he never would have believed that he—an old soldier—could be so overcome by sentiment.

He was minded to take up his abode for the next two weeks, previous to his leaving for the country, in his widowed sister's humble home, when the splendid thought came to him;—he would bring Francisco, his nephew, there with him to the lonely house.

For some time he had been drawn towards the little fellow, partly because his heart was desolate that he had no son of his own, partly because the boy was developing so many manly traits, and reminded him frequently, when he turned his round brown eyes towards him, of his own long since fallen soldier father.

He desired to know him better, to get closer to the lad—and now this was his opportunity; he would ask Anita to let him have Francisco for the summer, and the boy would keep the empty house lively for the few days until they should both leave for his Tres Arroyas ranch. He clapped his hands sharply, and a servant appeared.

"Have Enrique bring the motor car at four, when the afternoon is cooler," he ordered, and turned to his bed-room for the siesta, or rest, that all tropical and semitropical climates demand of their residents.

CHAPTER II

Promptly at four, the huge red machine puffed up to the front curbing. The Colonel was walking up and down in the Plaza opposite, smoking a cigarette; for when not eating or asleep, an Argentine gentleman is seldom seen without the thin, white cigarrillo between his lips. He looked most distinguished in his scarlet and green uniform.

It took but a few moments to reach his sister's casa,[3] and the maid who answered his ring in the narrow vestibule that opened directly onto the street told him the family were having máte in the patio, which was partly shaded in the late afternoon. He was welcomed heartily, and was kissed by each one twice, after the foreign fashion, once on either cheek.

The máte cup, an egg-shaped gourd, was passed from hand to hand as they sat talking, each one in turn sucking the fragrant tea through the same silver tube; the little Indian maid refilling the gourd again and again with hot water.

This is the universal custom in South American countries below the Equator, and aside from the benefits derived from the drinking of the pungent herb itself, it has a significance akin to the "loving cup" idea, and is a symbolization of family love and domestic ties.

A guest is always asked to partake of máte with the family, and if he is unaccustomed to the manner of its usage, the fact that he is expected to obtain his share by means of the one, universal tube, is at first disconcerting, but he dare not refuse under penalty of offending his host.

This herb is called "Paraguayian tea," or "Jesuits' tea," as it was used extensively by the early Jesuit Fathers, who were one of the most important factors in the civilization of the lower half of South America. It is grown mostly in Brazil and Paraguay and its cultivation has become quite an industry.

The dried leaves are placed in a small gourd, hot water is poured into it, and it is then sucked into the mouth through the long silver tube, which has a bulbous end, perforated with small holes so that the tea is strained. At the first taste it is exceedingly bitter, but one soon grows very fond of it. It is very stimulating and a gaucho, or cowboy, will sometimes, under stress of circumstances, ride all day with only his morning gourd of máte to sustain him, and then eat his first meal of the day at sundown.

The Colonel soon made known his errand, and Francisco was beside