My aunt was worn out with having continually to send someone to fetch her children, just to please the people who came asking to speak to them. She therefore handed over the care of the flock to her other son, John. This decision was very painful to Jacinta for two reasons: firstly, she had to speak to everyone who came looking for her, and secondly, she could no longer spend the whole day with me. She had to resign herself, however.
To escape from the unwelcome visitors, she and Francisco used to go and hide in a cave hollowed out in the rock on the hillside facing our hamlet. On top of the hill was a windmill. Situated as it is on the eastern slope, this hiding place is so well formed that it afforded them an ideal protection from both the rain and the burning sun, especially since it is sheltered by many oak and olive trees. How many were the prayers and sacrifices that Jacinta offered there to Our dear Lord!
All over the slope grew innumerable varieties of flowers. Among them were many irises, and Jacinta loved this especially. Every evening, she was waiting for me on my way home, holding an iris she had picked for me, or some other flower if there were no irises to be found. It was a real joy for her to pluck off the petals one by one and strew them over me.
My mother was satisfied for the time being with deciding each day where I was to pasture the sheep, so that she knew where to find me when I was needed. When the place was nearby, I told my little companions, and they lost no time in coming out to join me. Jacinta never stopped running till she caught sight of me. Then, exhausted, she sat down and kept calling to me, until I answered and ran to meet her.