CHAPTER V.
An Idyl on the Azotea.1
On the morning after the dinner party, Aunt Isabel and Maria Clara went to mass early: the former carefully carrying her glasses, so that she might be able to read “The Anchor of Salvation” during communion; the latter beautifully dressed, carrying her rosary of blue beads as a bracelet. The priest had scarcely left the altar when, to the disgust and surprise of her good aunt, who thought that her niece was as pious and as fond of prayer as a nun, the young girl desired to go home. After a great deal of grumbling, the old lady crossed herself several times, and the two arose to leave. “Never mind,” said Maria, to cut off the scolding, “the good God will pardon me. He ought to understand the heart of a girl better than you, Aunt Isabel.”
After breakfast
