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 maining on the sieve, which could be lifted out as required.

At the base of the wine press, on the side facing the door, just at the bottom of the steps, a deep basin, something like a modern bathtub, stood filled with water for washing the feet of those who were to have the joyous honor of trampling the grapes on the springy rawhide sieve. These favored ones were waiting, feet' bare, garments above the knees, six youths and six maidens, but not in any mood of great hilarity, or even subdued pleasure, that Juan could see. It was work to them, and strange work, which they approached with timid reluctance in spite of Padre Ignacio's assurance and the not so kind glances of Don Geronimo.

A line of young men, baskets of grapes on their heads, marched in and emptied their loads into the wine press; Padre Ignacio gave the word, the girls with washed feet clambered nimbly up the sides and began trampling out the wine. At first they stepped shyly on the cool rich grapes, promising little for Padre Ignacio's hopes. Presently the juice began to bubble pleasantly between their toes, bringing little exclamations of wonder, little starting smiles of pleasure. Absorbed in the new aspects of this task, moved to nimbler prancing by the reward of gushing juice, which broke in sharp little jets now and then, spraying faces and bare arms, the girls began to chatter and laugh.

"It is the same as in the days of old," Padre