"You can ñaltaMartayMarítell me what to do, and under your direction it will go first-rate."
"Now, you flatter me! All right, I'm willing; but you must wash your hands first."
Nothing was left for Ricardo but to go and wash his hands.
"That's good. Now take this rolling-pin and flatten out this lump of dough till you make it into a thin, round piece."
The new baker applied himself to his work with ardor; with too great ardor, for the dough was sometimes rolled so extremely thin that it was nothing but holes. The servants looked on with broad smiles of admiration, while Marta kept gravely intent upon her task. In the kitchen the atmosphere was suffocating, as it was heated by the red-hot iron covers of the oven, and impregnated with the heavy odors of cooking viands, which disturb and revolt the stomach when it is surfeited, but excite and stimulate it when it is empty.
Ricardo could not keep his tongue still a single instant. While he was passing the rolling-pin over the dough with greater circumspection than if he had been engaged in preparing a magic philter, he did not cease to ask questions and make remarks of all sorts to Marta, principally in regard to the pie which they had undertaken to make: "How many eggs did you put in the flour? How much lard? Who taught you to make pies? How long does it have to stay in the oven?" etc., etc. Marta gave laconic answers, and did not lift her face to all his questions, allowing a vague smile of condescending superiority to hover over her lips.
"Aye! Marta, what would Manolito Lopez say, if he were to see us at this moment?"
"What has he to say? It's nothing to him," replied the girl, slightly blushing.
"Wouldn't he be jealous, to see us so near together?"
"Oh, I know! I know he's in love with you, according to what they say."
"Lassie, everybody is talking about it; it's no invention of mine."
"Very well; then keep it up, as you say."
Marta's tone in saying this showed some signs of vexation. It was evident that she did not quite relish the joke. Ricardo's ground for making it was slight enough, as is almost always the case with children; but it was true to a certain degree. Little urchins of fourteen or fifteen, called, in popular language, _pipiolos_, run after the small girls of the same age; and they establish, for the most part tacitly, certain relations with them which resemble or imitate the love affairs of their seniors. It is said, for example, among them that Fulanito[18] is Fulanita's sweetheart, without any reason why; and Fulanito, merely from this fact, without Fulanita meaning much to him, goes to wait for her, with other friends, at the schoolroom door, and follows her home, greatly to the vexation of the tending maid; at the little parties which are given from house to house he takes her out to dance more frequently than the others. If he be somewhat daring, he is apt to offer her candy in cones of gilt paper; and he passes in front of her house several times a day, when he begins to wear new clothes or a new hat; he manages, when he walks behind her, to speak loud and distinctly for her to hear, and plumes himself on his clever talk; and he is quick to roll up his sleeves for the most insignificant thing, so as to exhibit in her presence a boldness and courage which he would not have if she were absent; he spends the pennies which he possesses on pomade or scented oil, and comes to mass when she is present, his hair brushed and as shiny as a cat just out of the water; in the afternoon, when his heart is sore because she does not take any notice of him, he follows behind her with some of his friends, indulging in naughty words and stupid laughter; and sometimes, coming close up to her, he pulls her by the hair-ribbon, until, with these and other trickeries, he succeeds in making her cry.