54 
THE GOLDEN RIVER. 
almost as limited as mine, conversation pre¬ 
sented some difficulties. She brought up her 
second daughter to shake hands with us, a 
plump brown tomboy of about seven, in a very 
short frock, with a tangled head of dark hair, 
who stoutly refused to have anything to do with 
us. But she was a useful addition to the party, 
as each member of it, when anxious to air their 
society manners, would try to pull down her 
abbreviated pink skirt over her dimpled bare 
legs, murmuring, in Spanish, injunctions to 
behave like a lady : injunctions which were 
serenely disregarded. A small boy, staring at 
us with his finger in his mouth, belonged to the 
family too, and there was a sleeping baby, of 
indeterminate sex, in a cradle in a corner of the 
room. Various people drifted in to gaze at us, 
and drifted aimlessly out again. The young 
store-keeper, with the air of a man of the 
world, spoke of the difficulties of travel, and 
enquired if we found Buenos Aires larger than 
London, whilst he flicked a speck of dust off his 
narrow patent leather shoes. The fair-haired 
girl was obviously impressed by his aplomb, and 
I caught an admiring expression in her blue 
eyes. He caught it too, and twirled his 
moustache complacently. ‘ It must be interest¬ 
ing to see the world,’ she murmured, her eyes 
on the ground, and was a little vexed when her 
mother remarked that they had meant her to go 
to Posadas to be educated, but that she refused 
