The cargador was the first to break the silence that followed this ebullition of astonishment.
"Que atroz!" ("How atrocious!") he exclaimed.
"Que barbaridad!" ("How barbarous!") echoed Pancho.
"Por Supuesto que si!" ("Well, I should say so I"), quoth the cargador.
"Pos como no!" ("Well, I'd like to know why it isn't! "), said the disgusted Pancho.
"She will never get a cook to use it, never!" The cook came into the patio to inspect the stove, and she too spoke in a low voice to the men, but folding her arms and emphatically raising her tone on the last word "el higado" which explained itself later.
As there was not a flue in the building, the stove was placed in the little fire-place. It had only two feet, which stood diagonally opposite each other, causing the stove to nod and bend in a grim, diabolic way. Being duly settled on its own responsibility by the aid of bricks, Pancho opened one of the doors, when instantly it lay full length on the floor. He walked away, looking back in disgust on the wreck. I ventured to touch the door on the opposite side, when, as if by magic, it, also, took a position on the floor as vis-à-vis; the servants exclaiming: "Muy mal hecho!" ("A very bad make, or job! "), "tan viejo!" ("so very old!" )
"Pos como no!" ("Well, I should say so I") they all chimed in, the cook glancing at me suspiciously, and folding her arms as she added: "No, señora, I cannot use the estufa."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Porque me hace daño en el higado."
