When Pilar left the cathedral, she hurried toward the Street of the Serpents. She would have to be quick. It was growing late, and her grandfather would be waiting for her.

As soon as she had sold the castanets to Juan, she would shop at the market. Then she would go home and cook the dinner.

She made herself think of the good things she would cook. But her eyes filled with tears. How could she think of eating when her precious castanets were soon to be gone?

Besides, what would she and her grandfather live on, after this money was spent? Would they be obliged to ask for charity? Pilar shuddered.

The sound of a hurdy-gurdy came from the Murillo Garden as she passed. She remembered how she used to dance there every evening before her grandfather had become ill.

Her friends were dancing there now—all of them: Maria, Guadalupe, Teresa—yes, even Baby Dolores, happy, carefree, whirling about in their dance.

They had no troubles. They could stay out, dancing, singing, playing as long as they pleased.

She would join them. She must dance just once more to her golden-voiced castanets—just once more before she gave them up to Juan!

Pilar entered the garden.

Meanwhile, at home Pilar's grandfather awoke. He had been dreaming. He had dreamed of that eventful bullfight when his daughter Carmen had saved the life of Pedro's bull, Rey.

Carmen had later married Pedro, and Pilar was their child. But both had passed away, leaving their little girl in the old man's care.

What was keeping Pilar now? Where had she gone, and what was taking her such a long time?

Her grandfather began to worry. He raised himself on the pillow. Dusk had fallen. The room was growing dark. Yet he could discern a white object lying on the floor just inside the door. Why, it looked like a letter. But few letters ever arrived at this house. Still it was a letter!

Oh, if Pilar would only come home! She had never been so late before.

"Suppose," he thought, "she has sold the magic castanets, and something terrible has happened to her! Suppose—"

But he quickly laughed at his foolish fears, and just then the door swung open and Pilar burst in.

She was weeping bitterly, her arm flung across her eyes. She threw herself down beside her grandfather's bed, sobs shaking her.

At first it was difficult to understand what she said, but gradually the words swam out thickly through her tears, "Oh, I—I have done a—terrible th-thing—"

A flood of sobs broke through and drowned the rest. Her grandfather laid a gentle hand upon her head.

"There, Pilly dear," he said. "Do not cry, and tell me everything. Look up, child, and see. Your old grandfather is better tonight, and soon he will be quite well again. Are you not glad?"

This made Pilar raise her head. Her grandfather was speaking to her just as he had done before he had been taken so ill. It was true then that he was much better tonight.

"Tell me what happened," he repeated.

And Pilar poured out her whole story.

"We have had no money, dear Grandfather," she said. "And I have had to sell everything of value—everything out of my mother's chest of souvenirs.

"The castanets were the last to go. Juan had offered to buy them from me for a great dancing master, and today I was on my way to Juan's shop. But I—I—stopped in the Murillo Garden—and—and danced—oh!"

"Go on, Pilly dear," said her grandfather patiently.

"As I was dancing," she continued, "a gentleman came up to me and asked to see the—the castanets. When I showed them to him, he said that he would like to buy them. He said that he was the dancing master of whom Juan had spoken.

"Oh, Grandfather, he offered me so much money for them, and I—I—"

"What did you do, Pilly?" asked the old man.

"I could not sell them, Grandfather!" sobbed Pilar. "I—I could not! I ran away from him. I ran away!"

CHAPTER XV