but shutters open. Flutter outside! Somebody wanted to sell two eggs. Where is the Niña. She is sleeping! The visitor does not go. Continual flutter outside.
The aquador! Ah, the water for the Niña’s bath! She is sleeping, she is sleeping. “No!” called Kate, slipping into a dressing-gown and unbolting the door. In come the children with the bath tub, in comes the aquador with the two square kerosene cans full of hot water. Twelve centavos! Twelve centavos for the aquador! No hay! We haven’t got twelve centavos. Later! Later! Away trots the aquador, pole over his shoulder. Kate shuts her doors and shutters and starts her bath.
“Niña? Niña?”
“What do you want?”
“Eggs boiled or fried or rancheros? Which do you want?”
“Boiled.”
“Coffee or chocolate?”
“Coffee.”
“Or do you want tea?”
“No, coffee.”
Bath proceeds.
“Niña?”
“Yes.”
“There is no coffee. We are going to buy some.”
“I’ll take tea.”