"But why are they scolding Irene?"

The landlady and the Biscayan exchanged amicable glances and burst
into laughter.

"Tell me," cried the child insistently, clutching at her aunt's
kerchief. "What of it if she has that bundle? Who gave her that
package?"

The landlady and the Biscayan could no longer restrain their guffaws,
while the little girl stared avidly up at them, trying to make out the
meaning of what she heard.

"Who gave her that package?" repeated the Biscayan between outbursts.
"My dear little girl, we really don't know who gave her that package."

All the boarders repeated the niece's question with enthusiastic
delight, and at every table discussion some wag would be sure to
interrupt suddenly with:

"Now I see that you know who gave her that package." The remark would
be greeted with uproarious merriment.

Then, after a few days had passed, there was rumour of a mysterious
consultation held by Dona Violante's daughters with the wife of a
barber on Jardines street,--a sort of provider of little angels for
limbo; it was said that Irene returned from the conference in a coach,
very pale, and that she had to be put at once to bed. Certainly the
girl did not leave her room for more than a week and, when she