"It is the dish he most favors of all;
and it is a pity too, old as he is. It makes him no blood. It is good
beef he should take now."
The dining-room was on the opposite side of the courtyard from
the kitchen, and there was a perpetual procession of small
messengers going back and forth between the rooms. It was the
highest ambition of each child to be allowed to fetch and carry
dishes in the preparation of the meals at all times; but when by so
doing they could perchance get a glimpse through the dining-room
door, open on the veranda, of strangers and guests, their restless
rivalry became unmanageable. Poor Margarita, between her own
private anxieties and her multiplied duties of helping in the
kitchen, and setting the table, restraining and overseeing her army
of infant volunteers, was nearly distraught; not so distraught,
however, but that she remembered and found time to seize a
lighted candle in the kitchen, run and set it before the statue of
Saint Francis of Paula in her bedroom, hurriedly whispering a
prayer that the lace might be made whole like new.
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