He was not going to trouble himself to go outside every time that he wanted to know the weight of a leather skin!.

.

.

A piano came into the ranch, and Elena passed the hours practising exercises with desperate good will.

"Heavens and earth! She might at least play the Jota or the Perican, or some other lively Spanish dance!" And the irate father, at the hour of siesta, betook himself to the nearby eucalyptus trees, to sleep upon his poncho.
This younger daughter whom he dubbed La Romantica, was the special victim of his wrath and ridicule.