On the floor of the room, the same chamber where Tyope had taken rest the night before, stood the usual meal; and Okoya partook of it modestly, said his prayer of thanks, and uttered a plain, sincere hoya at the end.

But instead of rising, as he would have done at home, he remained squatting, glancing at the two women.
While he ate, the mother watched him eagerly; her cunning eyes moved from his face toward that of her daughter like sparks; and gradually an expression of satisfaction mingled with that of a settled resolve appeared on her features.

There was no doubt that the two would be a handsome pair.

They seemed, as the vulgar saying goes, made for each other; and there was something besides that told that they were fond of each other also.

Okoya had never before entered this dwelling; but the woman thought that they had met before, nay, that her desire had been anticipated, inasmuch as the young people already stood to each other, if not in an intimate, in a more than merely friendly, relation.
"Why do you never come to see us ?" asked the woman, after Okoya had finished his meal.
"I stay at the estufa during the night," was the modest reply.
"You need have no fear," she answered pleasantly, "Tyope and your father are good friends.