One may not with impunity balance personal
implements upon the too tremulous rails of the ancient Kast.
With an appreciative and glowing eye, Miss Brewster read from her
mimeographed bill of fare such legends as "ropa con carne,"
"bacalao seco," "enchiladas," and meantime devoured chechenaca,
which, had it been translated into its just and simple English of
"hash," she would not have given to her cat.
Nor did her visual and prandial preoccupations inhibit her from a
lively interest in the surrounding Babel of speech in mingled
Spanish, Dutch, German, English, Italian, and French, all at the
highest pitch, for a few rods away the cathedral bells were
saluting Heaven with all the clangor and din of the other place,
and only the strident of voice gained any heed in that contest.
Even after the bells paused, the habit of effort kept the voices
up. Miss Brewster, dining with her father a few hours after her
return from the mountain, absolved her conscience from any intent
of eavesdropping in overhearing the talk of the table to the right
of her. The remark that first fixed her attention was in English,
of the super-British patois.
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