“Buenas días! Who’s there?”
“‘Buenas días,’ the brat says! Hah! It’s ‘buenos’ with an ‘o,’ my little tonto!”
“It’s the just the same, ’ñor, that’s what my Tia ’Suncion says! ‘Buenos’ or ‘buenas,’ the ’ñora tells me to say it,
anyhow. You a friend of the ’ñora, then?”
“Yes, yes, I’m the Señor Teniente. Look, hijo. I’ve a very busy day ahead of me and I haven’t drunk anything yet, so don’t test my patience, no? Open the
gate or someone gets the lashes, eh?”
Either the lashes or the reference to the Teniente’s drinking habits must have gotten to the boy, as he immediately opened the gate and ran up the stairs.
“This is why I don’t envy you, Romulito,” said the Teniente, smirking. “One day you and your Feliza are going to have a brat just like that. Ha!”
And the two went up inside the
