Читать книгу Our Little Brazilian Cousin - Nixon-Roulet Mary F. - Страница 3

Affonzo was tired of talking to the white cockatoo. It was the time of day when his little sister Lola took her siesta, and he had no one to play with. He was himself such a big boy, soon eleven years old, that he felt no longer the need of the daily siesta, although in the warm country of Brazil where he lived, even grown people like a nap in the middle of the day.

Affonzo himself did not feel very lively. The sun beat down like a great ball of fire and only the cool veranda or the shady garden seemed enticing. The garden should have been pleasant enough to satisfy any boy, for it was a vision of tropic beauty. Tall palms waved their feathery branches heavenward, and gaily coloured flowers flaunted their gorgeous petals while brilliant birds flittered hither and yon.

But Affonzo was used to all this beauty, and he wanted something new to do, for this little Brazilian cousin was very like his American ones and could not be quiet very long. Even the fruit garden seemed tiresome. Generally he was glad to spend his time there, for the huge banana trees which grew in a banana patch at the end of the house were sure of several visits from him during the day. The plants were twice as tall as he, and the fruit grew in great bunches, many of them weighing fifty pounds, and Affonzo always chose the finest for himself and Lola to eat. Besides these there were figs, pineapples, mangoes, grapes and oranges all of which grow in Brazil.

The American watermelon also had been planted and the Senhor was watching eagerly to see if it would bear fruit, for he had been told that in other parts of Brazil it grew rapidly and bore well. Affonzo was much interested in it too, for his cousin in the States had sent the seeds and told him how delicious the fruit was.

He strolled toward the sunny slope where the vines were tended by Joachim, the black who took care of the garden and helped about the house. Joachim's mother had nursed Affonzo's mother in the days when there were black slaves in Brazil, and he was devoted to the whole family. He was just like a faithful black dog watching the place, and was especially fond of the children. He could cook and bake, wait on the Senhor, tend the garden or the horses, and could always be trusted to take care of little Lola who was his great friend.

Affonzo looked at the green melon and wondered how it tasted. He had heard so much about it that he was very curious and could hardly wait until the day came when it should be served, for his mother had promised that each should have a taste.

Above the melon vines grew one of the tallest of the banana trees, and the fruit seemed to Affonzo to be finer at that particular time than he had ever seen it. He was very hungry and felt he must have one of those bananas at once. Ordinarily he would have climbed the tree like a little monkey and helped himself, but his mother had excused him from his siesta on condition that he be quiet, and though he looked longingly at the fruit he did not start to climb. He threw himself down upon the grass and looked up through the thick foliage at the blue above.

"I wish something would happen," he said to himself. "It seems to me that nothing ever happens. One half the year I must be in Para and stay at my grandfather's to go to the Laure Sodré Institute – I am tired of the very name! – and the other half I must stay here at the Fazenda with no playmate but Lola, and she is made to sleep half the day. I wish something would happen," and he sighed discontentedly. "How hungry I am," he thought. "I must have one of those bananas, they never looked so good! I believe mamma will not care if I climb for one, for she only said I must keep quiet and I'm sure I'll make no noise." With that the boy rose to his feet, and with a quick glance around, he began to climb and was soon squirming around the trunk of the tree like a snake. Once there he reached for the best bananas and filled the pockets of his linen suit with them. He was just starting down when he heard voices coming and peering cautiously down the garden path he saw his father with an uncle of whom he was very fond, and whom he had not seen for some time.

"Uncle Prudente," he thought. "I wonder when he came from Para and how long he is going to stay. Oh, dear! how will I get down from here?" Affonzo knew that his father would not be likely to pass over any disobedience and that he would be punished if he came down at that moment. So he crouched among the leaves and was still as a mouse while the two gentlemen came directly under the banana tree and stopped to talk.

"This is the American melon," said the Senhor. "It will be ripe in another week. There are others ripening but this is the finest. If it is good I shall keep all the seeds and have a large crop next year. If Juan comes, I shall ask him to bring me the seeds of various kinds, for there is nothing like variety in a garden. In our hot climate these should do well and they are very agreeable when properly cooled. I hope Juan will come; a long visit from him would be a good thing for Affonzo, who is growing spoiled from being the only boy. He is wilful and high-spirited but on the whole he is – what is that?"

The Senhor stopped suddenly and Affonzo never knew what he himself was, besides being wilful and high spirited. Distressed at being a listener, he had leaned too far out on the branch on which he sat and it broke under his weight. He gave a wild clutch and fell down, down, down. He thought he would never stop, and oh, horror! when he did light, it was astride the shoulders of his uncle. Affonzo was a sturdy little fellow and his uncle was slight and small, the result being that both went down in a heap on top of the melon.

For a moment no one spoke; then his father pulled him off his uncle and helped his irate brother to his feet. Uncle Prudente's white linen suit was splashed from head to foot with watermelon juice, his panama hat was crushed out of shape, watermelon juice ran down his face and several black seeds stuck to his face. He was speechless with rage, but he looked so very funny that Affonzo, sore and bruised by his fall and terribly frightened, could not help laughing. He sat down upon the ground and laughed till he cried, and the noise woke all the parrots dozing in the trees, and all began jabbering at once, while the cockatoo gave one of his terrible screeches.

When the noise had subsided a little, Senhor Dias said sternly to Affonzo, "What is the meaning of this?" Affonzo was silent, but he quickly sprang to his feet and stood respectfully in front of his father, for Brazilian boys are taught to treat their elders with great deference.

"What were you doing in that tree?" demanded his father.

"Eating bananas," said Affonzo simply.

"Does your mother permit that?" asked the Senhor, for in Brazil, as in most South American countries, the mother arranges all matters in regard to the children.

"My mother allows me to climb trees and eat bananas," said Affonzo. "That was not a disobedience, but – "

"But what?" demanded his father.

"But," continued Affonzo slowly. "She had at the hour of the siesta requested me to keep quiet."

"Do you call this quiet?" asked his father sternly though his eyes twinkled. "Such a noise has not been heard at the Fazenda for many days."

"Not very quiet," said Affonzo, his head drooping, though he could scarce keep from laughing again. "I ask your pardon, my uncle," he added. "I intended nothing of disrespect. I did but lose my hold upon the tree and the next thing I knew I sat astride of your august shoulders. I pray you pardon me." Affonzo's tone was contrite, and his dancing eyes were on the ground.

"Say no more of it," said his uncle, as he laid his hand on the boy's head. "Boys will be boys and Affonzo is not unlike others. But next time I come do not receive me with such a fierce embrace. Indeed I thought my neck was broken with the warmth of your welcome."

Affonzo's laugh rang out gaily, but he sobered down when his father said, "I excuse you since your uncle asks it, but remember after this that the commands of your mother are to be obeyed. Go now with your uncle and attend to his wants while he repairs the damage your carelessness has wrought."

Affonzo bowed to his father and made the military salute as all school boys are taught to do in Brazil, but he sighed to himself as he went, "I wonder what he meant about Juan but I am afraid to ask. And the worst of it all is, that now I shall never know how the American melon tasted."