“I was so scared I shut my eyes tight to keep from seeing you killed,” added Peggy tremulously. “I hope that taught you a lesson and you’ll be satisfied to stay where you belong after this.”
“Girls, look at the spectators!” exclaimed Florence the next moment.
In the street, about thirty feet below, several peons had stopped to watch this unusual performance, while others were running to see what was going on.
After one hasty glance below Jo Ann fled into the office.
“Can’t you do anything here without an audience?” she asked a moment later in disgust.
“Not anything like that,” replied Florence. “I do hope they leave before Felipe sees them, or he’ll have the whole story in a few minutes.”
“Anyway, I’m glad I’m down here.” Jo Ann drew a sigh of relief. “I hope I never have to stay so long in such a hot place again.”
“Jo, you’re hurt!” cried Florence. “Look at the blood.”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” she replied. “I just left a little skin up there on the wall when I slipped, but it isn’t enough to worry about.” She stopped abruptly, then added, “Oh dear! I was in such a hurry to get down, I forgot and left your parasol up on the roof.”
“Well, let it stay there,” put in Florence quickly. “I’d rather lose the old parasol than have you climb up there again.”
“But I am going up there again,” announced Jo Ann emphatically. “If I can climb down the rope, there’s no reason why I can’t climb back up, is there?”
“N-o—I suppose not,” admitted Florence hesitatingly. “But Jo—you might get hurt—and——”
“Oh, but I know exactly how to fix that rope now so it won’t be so hard to get off the roof next time. I’ll pick a time of day when we won’t have so many spectators, for your sake, Florence.”
Peggy handed Jo Ann a glass of limeade, saying, “Drink this and stop talking about that next time. I’m afraid most of the ice has melted, but it’ll be cool and refreshing, anyway.”
Jo Ann reached over for the glass. “Nothing could be more appreciated right now, though I’m ’most too dirty to drink it.”
“You are a sight, all right,” laughed Peggy. “Soot—blood—dirt—all over your face and arms. We can scarcely tell what color you are. You look more like an Indian in full war paint than anything else.”
“For all my war paint, I’m really quite harmless. I’ve had enough excitement for one day.” Jo Ann sipped the cooling drink. “My, this tastes good! Driving that iron into the wall was harder work than I expected. I can easily understand why these houses are so old. Nothing short of an earthquake or a bomb could destroy them.”
“Here, I’ll take the glass if you’ve finished,” said Florence, placing it on the tray. “I’ll send Felipe down to the drugstore with these things, and that’ll give you a chance to slip to your room and get a bath and change your clothes. We’d better not let anyone see you like this.”
“Poor Florence!” laughed Jo Ann as Florence carried the tray to the door and gave it to Felipe. “Doesn’t she have a time trying to keep me from disgracing the family?”
“You are a problem sometimes,” agreed Peggy. “Especially when you get your head set on a thing. You seem to forget everything else then.”
“I heard what you said just now,” interrupted Florence coming over and putting her arm around Jo Ann as they started for their room. “I know you sometimes think I’m fussy, but there’re some queer customs here that we must recognize. You know the old saying: ‘When in Rome do as the Romans do.’”
Having reached their room, Peggy and Florence hastened to bring Jo Ann the necessary toilet articles for removing all traces of her escapade.
“Here, Jo, you’d better use this cleansing cream first,” said Peggy. “You’ll never get all that grime off without it. Wait, I’ll help you,” she added, rubbing some of the cream on her neck.
“Ouch! Be careful! You’re rubbing the skin off,” cried Jo Ann, dodging.
“Why, I’m not! I’m being just as careful as can be. You’re sunburned, that’s the trouble—you’re red as a beet.”
“You’re blistered!” added Florence. “Just look at your arms and face now that we’ve got some of the dirt off! I was afraid of that when you had to stay up there so long. You don’t know the penetrating qualities of a tropical sun.”
“I believe you look worse with the dirt off than you did with it on,” laughed Peggy. “What are we going to do with her, Florence?”
Florence shook her head dubiously. “I don’t know. If Daddy sees her like this we’ll have to explain what’s happened, and I don’t want to do that.”
“And I don’t want you to, either,” Jo Ann put in quickly. “I want to surprise him by solving the mystery of that window. He doesn’t seem to think there’s anything strange about it—he didn’t even look at it.”
“You must promise to be very careful, whatever you do,” Florence warned.
“Didn’t I just tell you, Jo, that sometimes you’re quite a problem?” added Peggy teasingly.
“You just wait till I’ve had my bath,” Jo Ann replied as she started out of the room. “When I finish dressing, I’ll look all right.”
When she returned a little later and preened herself triumphantly before them, Peggy burst into a peal of laughter.
“She looks exactly as if she’d stuck her head in the flour barrel and the flour had stuck in spots, doesn’t she?” she remarked to Florence.
“Well, her skin does look queer—a little like parchment or canvas,” reluctantly admitted the more polite Florence.
Jo Ann grimaced. “I like that—after all my efforts.”
“Let me fix your face,” offered Peggy. “I promise to touch your face as lightly as a butterfly touches a flower.”
“Listen to the poet!” scoffed Jo Ann.
“Poet and artist,” added Peggy, smiling widely. “Watch how skillfully this artist works on her canvas now.”
Lightly brushing most of the powder off Jo Ann’s face, she applied a generous amount of vanishing cream, then dusted it with just the right amount of powder so that enough of the red in her cheeks would show through to look natural.
When she had finished, she waved her powder puff with a flourish. “Behold the transformation from Indian to a member of the white race!”
“You really don’t look bad at all now, Jo Ann,” smiled Florence. “If you stay out of the bright light, I don’t believe anyone—not even Daddy—will notice how sunburned you are.”
“Is that the best you can say—to tell me I won’t look bad if I stay in the dark?” put in Jo Ann. “How’re you going to manage to keep me in the dark? If I stay in my room and don’t go to dinner tonight, your father’ll be sure to dose me with pills and tonics.”
“I’ll use candles on the dinner table tonight—I often do—and in their soft light your sunburn won’t be noticeable.”
To Jo Ann’s vast relief Dr. Blackwell did not make any comment about her complexion at dinner, even though Peggy teasingly hinted that she had taken unusual pains with her toilet this evening.
Unconscious of anything amiss, Dr. Blackwell asked pleasantly, “Are you girls going over to the Plaza tonight to join in the promenade?”
“Yes, I can hardly wait,” replied Peggy. “Florence told us about the promenade yesterday while we were driving around the Plaza.”
Dr. Blackwell exchanged glances with Florence, his eyes twinkling.
“I understand,” he chuckled, “that if you want to catch a suitor, all you have to do is pick out the young man you prefer, then throw him a rose as you pass. You can deliver your message by the color of the rose you use.”
“That’d be lots of fun,” replied Peggy laughingly. “Where’ll I get the rose, and what color shall I use?”
“Why, P-e-gg-y!” cried Jo Ann in consternation. “You wouldn’t really do a thing like that—would you?”
“If I should, I’d only be doing in Mexico as the Mexicans do—and that’s more than you’ve learned to do yet,” she finished, smiling teasingly at Jo Ann.
Jo Ann subsided instantly. A little more, and Dr. Blackwell might see through Peggy’s veiled remarks and begin asking questions about what she had been doing.
To her relief Peggy turned to Florence, saying, “Tell me some more about the why and wherefore of the rose-throwing custom”—her eyes sparkled—“so I can introduce it in the States for Jo’s benefit.”
Smilingly Florence explained that this was a very old custom but was seldom used now. “The Spanish girls and their caballeros have very few opportunities of meeting each other. When they pass on the promenade—you remember I told you how the girls all walk in one direction and the men in the other—they take advantage of this chance to say a few words or deliver a message.”
“If you’ve finished dinner, let’s sit out on the balcony a while with Dad before we go down to the Plaza. We can listen to the music and watch the crowds from there.”
The Plaza, which only a short time before had been almost deserted, began to present a festive appearance now. Clusters of electric lights shone, making it bright as day; lines of cars passed back and forth; and crowds thronged the broad promenade.
To Jo Ann it seemed as if the balcony were a box at the theater, and from it she was watching a play being enacted on an immense stage. The beautiful, exquisitely dressed girls, who arm in arm were slowly and gracefully strolling along on the outside of the promenade, were the actresses of the play; the caballeros, handsome and well groomed, passing on the inside and never losing an opportunity to bow and smile at the señoritas as they passed, were the actors; as for the background, there were the trees and shrubbery, and the benches filled with chaperons. All the time, the music, soft and rhythmical, was floating up to her—“the orchestra” she told herself, though she knew it was the notes of the wind instruments of the band that she was hearing.
Peggy broke into her thoughts just then with, “Can’t we go down there now? I’ve never seen anything quite like this before. I love it!”
“It is fascinating,” put in Jo Ann, “but we can really see better from here.”
“Oh, I know, but you miss half the fun up here,” Peggy replied quickly. “I want to promenade, too—be a part of the gaiety.”
“All right, we’ll go now,” said Florence. “Do you mind, Daddy, if we leave you?” she asked solicitously as she stooped to kiss his forehead.
“Of course not, my Florencita,” he replied, pinching her cheek affectionately. “Run along now and have a good time. Don’t forget, Miss Peggy, what I told you about catching a suitor,” he teased.
“All right, Doctor, I won’t,” she laughed, “and if I do anything to disgrace Florence, it’ll be all your fault.”
“I’ll take the consequences,” he returned lightly.
The three girls ran to their room a moment to add the finishing touches to their toilet, and for once Peggy was ready as soon as Jo Ann. All excitement, she caught Florence and Jo Ann by the arms to hurry them along.
“O-h, Peg—don’t! My arm’s sore!” cried Jo Ann, holding the injured arm away from her.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Peggy sympathetically. “Your camouflage is so good I’d forgotten about your blisters. I’ll remember hereafter, and we’ll walk one on each side of you, so no one’ll bump into you and hurt you again.”
They crossed the street and joined the gay promenade around the Plaza.
While Peggy was enjoying looking at the crowds, Jo Ann kept glancing back across the street at the front of the building in which the Blackwells had their apartment. Since their entrance was on the side street she had never before had an opportunity to examine the front of the house closely. The lower floor, she saw, was occupied mostly by different kinds of stores.
Shortly after passing opposite the drugstore beneath Dr. Blackwell’s office, she noticed a broad-arched doorway about halfway down the block. As she gazed through this doorway and into the brightly lighted space beyond, she suddenly gave a little gasp of surprise.
“Isn’t that a patio I see through that big doorway across the street, Florence?” she asked.
“Yes; there’s a small patio there.”
“Then that explains it,” Jo Ann went on eagerly. “This afternoon while I was up on the roof I noticed a queer, oblong walled-in place right in the center of the building. I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time—I was so worried about getting off the roof, but I believe now that this wall must’ve been around the opening for that patio. I’m wondering if that patio wasn’t at one time a part of your house.”
Florence’s eyes opened in surprise. “What makes you think that?”
“Why, because there wasn’t a division wall between that oblong opening and your part of the house. If it were originally one big house with many rooms, that would explain the reason for the huge kitchen and the immense fireplace.”
“That sounds reasonable enough, but why would they have built such a large house—a casa grande, as they say in Spanish?”
“I don’t know, but that’s what it’s been—casa grande.”
“Oh, there you go again, talking about that house,” put in Peggy. “Let’s forget it and enjoy the promenade.”
“All right, I won’t say another word about it now, but as soon as we get back to the house, I’m going to look around and see if I can find something that will prove that I’m right.”
“You’re hopeless, Jo—the idea of thinking about an old house when there’s all this lovely music to listen to, and all these beautiful girls with their Paris gowns, and the handsome young men to see!”
After they had strolled around the square for over an hour, Jo Ann remarked a little impatiently, “Don’t you think we’ve walked long enough? I think it’s time we were going back to the house.”
“Oh, don’t let’s go back yet!” Peggy replied quickly. “Let’s stay till the concert’s over. That house’ll still be standing there—patio and all.”
“That won’t be long,” put in Florence. “The band’ll probably only play another piece or two. You can’t do any exploring about the house, anyway, Jo, till Daddy goes to his room,” she added.
So it was that they did not start homeward until the band had played the last number and the crowds were leaving.
After reaching the house the girls talked for a few moments with Dr. Blackwell, then went on to their room. It was not long afterward that Jo Ann’s keen ears caught the clanging sound of metal as Dr. Blackwell bolted the outer door. She waited impatiently a little longer, then slipped out into the hall, and silently stood at the head of the stairway, trying to figure out how these rooms had been connected with the patio and the other part of the house.
“I know that patio is in about the center of the house,” she thought. “Then this wall opposite me would be in a direct line with the patio.”
Since she could not see distinctly in the dim rays of the night light, she turned on a brighter one, and tilting it upward, threw its rays directly on the wall opposite.
To her disappointment she could see nothing but the plain surface of the plastered wall.
“This hall must’ve been connected in some way with that patio,” she told herself. “There’s bound to be something somewhere to show how it was connected.”
Tilting the light first at one angle and then another, she gazed at the wall intently, searching for some sign of a former opening.
All at once she caught a glimpse of the dim, shadowy outlines of a broad arch.
Tiptoeing to the bedroom door, she called softly, “Girls, come here quickly! I’ve found it—I knew I was right!”
Quickly she led Peggy and Florence to the spot in which she had been standing, and again tilting the light, pointed to the wall.
“Don’t you see the outlines of an arch over there?” she asked, as she threw the rays of the light back and forth across the wall.
“Your imagination’s running away with you, Jo,” scoffed Peggy. “I can’t see a thing but a blank wall.”
“I do see something—a faint shadow,” put in Florence slowly. “Why, Jo! I do believe you’re right! There was an arch there.”
“Sure I’m right,” declared Jo Ann triumphantly. “This arch is the end of a wide hall that connected this back hall with the patio and the rest of the house. I believe your father’s office was the dining room. Can’t you just imagine a long banquet table down the center of that huge room and——”
“But why would they have such a huge dining room?” Florence asked quickly. “What could the house have been used for?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to find out.” Jo Ann’s chin took on a determined tilt. “Maybe I can find something in Señor Rodriguez’s books that will help me to solve the problem. I believe that mysterious window has something important to do with it—at least, that’s the way it looks to me.”
“Sh! Not so loud, Jo; you’ll wake Daddy.”
Quietly the three girls slipped back to their room to talk far into the night about the unexplained mysteries of the old house.
In spite of all the ointment and salve Jo Ann had applied to her face, neck, and arms, she spent a restless night. By morning some of the soreness had disappeared, but her appearance was not much improved. Before venturing out of her room she carefully put on some make-up and viewed the effect critically in the mirror.
“I may be able to cover up my sunburn from the servants, but not from Dr. Blackwell,” she told herself. “His trained eyes’ll be sure to penetrate my mask in the daylight. Here’s hoping he doesn’t eat lunch with us today. Florence says he’s nearly always late.”
To her inward consternation, no sooner had she stepped into the hall than she saw Dr. Blackwell coming toward her. Immediately she slowed her steps. “If he comes any closer. I’m sunk—even if this hall is dark.”
The next moment Dr. Blackwell called a cheerful “Good morning” to her and disappeared into his office.
Jo Ann smiled in relief as she thought whimsically, “A guilty conscience is certainly a bad companion.”
As on the previous morning, she and Peggy went with Florence to market, and, as before, she made only one purchase. This time it was a roll of very slender but strong hand-twisted rope.
“Now what are you going to do with that heavy cord?” Peggy promptly asked.
“Use it to conceal that big rope I left hanging from the roof.”
“Use a string to conceal a heavy rope?” Peggy asked in amazement. “Ah, the magician!” she added mockingly.
“Don’t be silly, Peg. There’s nothing mysterious about it. I’ve got to do something with that big rope before anyone sees it.”
Peggy shook her head dubiously. “Well, I hope you know what you’re talking about—I don’t. Here comes Florence—she must be ready to leave.”
“And the faithful watchdog following, as usual. You know, I believe he’s getting suspicious. Several times I’ve noticed him looking at me with the queerest expression.”
“You know Florence said he never misses a thing. He’s probably wondering what you’ve done to your face.”
On reaching home the girls found breakfast waiting, but Jo Ann could scarcely eat in her eagerness to get to the balcony before Felipe cleaned the office.
While Florence went to the kitchen to discuss menus with Juana, Jo Ann and Peggy slipped to the balcony. The rope, they found, was hanging just as they had left it the day before, and while not very conspicuous against the dull gray color of the wall, Jo Ann felt that it ought to be put completely out of sight. As she studied the wall, she unwound the roll of heavy cord she had bought earlier in the morning.
“Look down the street, Peg,” she ordered. “Do you see anybody?”
“No, it seems practically deserted right now,” Peggy replied. “Why?”
“I have to climb part way up that rope again, and I don’t want any spectators,” she explained while fastening the cord to the end of the rope. “If you see anybody coming, let me know.”
“All right.”
As soon as she began climbing up the rope, Jo Ann realized how sore her muscles were from the unusual strain she had put upon them the day before. Would she be able to make it to the top? she wondered. “I’ve got to do it,” she told herself the next moment, tightening her lips into a firm line.
Inch by inch she pulled herself up, slipping the cord through each of the loops in the rope as she went. On reaching the roof she found it extremely difficult to steady herself while passing the cord through the highest loops, but as she was determined to pull the rope up as high as possible, she kept on trying. Having succeeded at last in getting it through the loop at the roof’s edge, she took the end of the cord between her teeth and began to slip slowly down the rope.
When she was a little over halfway, Peggy suddenly cried, “Hurry, Jo! Here come some people! I believe they see you—they’re looking this way. Hurry!”
Instinctively Jo Ann turned her head to see the people. As she did so, her elbow scraped the rough plastered wall. A sharp pain instantly shot through her arm, and slightly loosening her hold on the rope, she slipped rapidly to the floor.
“How silly of me to do that!” she grumbled, examining her arm. Her sleeve, she saw, was torn, and blood was running from a place where the skin had been scraped off. “It looks as if I’ll have to be packed in cotton wool to keep from getting hurt—but this is not finishing my work, and Felipe may come out here any minute.”
Hurriedly she searched for an inconspicuous place to fasten the end of the cord. Finally noticing the hand-wrought hinge on the door, she decided that this offered a good hiding place.
She began at once to wind the cord into a small tight ball, and as she pulled the end of the cord, the heavy rope attached to it started to crawl snakelike up the wall. When at last the rope hung in several long loops at the edge of the roof, she fastened the cord to the door hinge and jammed the ball into the crack above.
“That’ll be all right as long as the door isn’t closed,” she said, “and it seldom is—at least, it hasn’t been closed since we’ve been here. It doesn’t show much from here, and it can’t be seen from the inside of the office.”
Leaning against the balcony rail, she and Peggy surveyed the wall approvingly. The string was almost invisible, and the loops of rope at the top were scarcely noticeable, so high were they above the street.
“No one would ever see that unless they were looking for it,” agreed Peggy. “But how’re you going to get it down? Didn’t you say you were going back up there?”
“Sure I am, but that’s simple enough,” Jo Ann replied. “When I loosen the string the rope is heavy enough to drop down of its own accord.”
Hearing a sudden noise behind them just then, they started guiltily. There stood Felipe in the doorway. Immediately Jo Ann wondered how long he had been there and how much he had seen.
“I’m glad he couldn’t understand what we were talking about,” she said to Peggy. “He’s the perfect watchdog, all right.”
Smiling now as they realized how nearly they had come to giving themselves away, they strolled nonchalantly around the balcony and entered the room from the farther side.
“You want to clean the room?” Jo Ann asked, pointing to the broom and mop.
Felipe grinned and nodded his head, “Sí, señorita.” While not understanding the exact words, he had understood their meaning.
Could Peggy and Jo Ann have seen him a few minutes later, they would have been very much amused and not a little worried. The minute they were out of sight he stepped out on the balcony and stood gazing up and down the street, then turned and searched the balcony, but in vain.
“Muy curioso, las Americanas [Very curious, these Americans],” he muttered, shaking his head.
After the injured arm had been bandaged with Peggy’s assistance, the girls wandered to the back of the house in search of Florence. Finding her in the kitchen in the middle of baking a cake, they stayed to help her.
To Jo Ann’s relief Dr. Blackwell did not appear at lunch, but when he came in an hour later, she happened to be passing through the hall. On seeing her Dr. Blackwell stopped to call to her that he had met Señor Rodriguez and that the Señor had sent a special invitation to her and the other girls to visit his library that afternoon. “Does that conflict with your plans?” he asked.
“Not at all,” Jo Ann answered quickly, forgetting all about her sunburned face. “I’ve wanted to meet Señor Rodriguez and talk to him ever since you told me about his library. Maybe I can find out more about your house and the old church this afternoon.”
The moment Dr. Blackwell left she remembered her previous anxiety about his seeing her sunburned face. “I forgot all about my face,” she smiled to herself. “Well, I’m going to Señor Rodriguez’s this afternoon, sunburn or no sunburn. Surely in such a fine library as his I can get some information that’ll help me find out more about this house, especially about that mysterious window.”
When, after the siesta, the girls began getting ready to go to Señor Rodriguez’s, Peggy applied cream and powder to Jo Ann’s face with the most painstaking care.
“I believe I’ll start a beauty shop,” she declared as she stood back and gazed approvingly at Jo Ann’s face. “You actually look pretty now.”
Jo Ann grinned. “Only a real artist could have performed that miracle. I don’t care much about the pretty part, though. All I want is to pass muster under Dr. Blackwell’s inspection.”
“You will—don’t worry.”
Dressed in fresh dainty frocks, the three girls were waiting on the balcony when Dr. Blackwell drove up in the car to take them to Señor Rodriguez’s.
Since Florence had told her about the Señor’s beautiful patio, Jo Ann gazed eagerly about when they entered the cool, spacious corridor of his house. The mosaic tiles of the floor seemed to her to reflect all the bright colors of the flowers in the beds beyond and of the potted plants clustered about the stone pillars which supported the graceful arches of the court.
The servant immediately ushered them into the sala or drawing room, a room of immense size and well-proportioned lines. Several large mirrors in heavy, gold-leaf frames, she noted, filled much of the wall space and gave the room the appearance of even greater size. The full-length double windows next caught and held her attention, curtained as they were with exquisite hand-made lace, which contrasted strangely with the iron bars.
The next moment their host and his wife entered: Señora Rodriguez, short, plump, and motherly, and the Señor, tall and distinguished-looking.
At first glance Jo Ann’s hopes sank. How could she ask this austere, dignified gentleman all of the questions which had been uppermost in her mind? Was the visit she had looked forward to with so much pleasure going to be in vain? Since the introductions were in Spanish, she felt a little ill at ease—all the more so when she saw Señora Rodriguez kiss Florence, first on one cheek, then on the other, and pat her on the back.
“If she kisses and pats me that enthusiastically on my sunburned skin, I’ll be sure to flinch,” she told herself.
The next moment Señor Rodriguez turned to her and, smiling, asked in broken English, “Are you de young lady who speak de Spanish?”
“Oh, no, señor, I can’t speak Spanish,” she answered timidly.
“El doctor say you have study de Spanish,” he insisted.
“Sí, señor, I studied Spanish two years,” she replied, “but I speak very little.”
“Ah, my dear young lady,” he said pleasantly, “if you do not try, how can you learn? You must speak to me in de Spanish. You see, my Ingles ver’ bad. I am too old to learn de Ingles now.”
“Oh, no, señor,” quickly replied Jo Ann. “You speak very good English. Much better English than I do Spanish.”
“Gracias, señorita,” he replied, smiling. “But how can I know?—you have not speak de Spanish. My son, Joaquin, speak de Ingles perfect-ly. I send him to college in de States. You know—Harvard—I t’ink you call it?” he asked, pronouncing it Arvard, since the h is always silent in Spanish.
“Oh, yes, indeed! I know Harvard. It is a college of very high standing. Does he like it there?”
“Sí, he likes it ver’ much. Dis year he finis, den he come home, and I take him in de office wid me. If he vas here now he could help you. De doctor say you are interes’ in de history of my city.”
“Sí, señor, I am,” she answered quickly. “I want to find out all I can about that old church across the street from Dr. Blackwell’s house. Both it and the house are so old, I feel sure there must be some very interesting things connected with them.”
“I t’ink you are right, and I shall be ver’ happy to assist you,” he offered. “We feel proud to t’ink you are interes’ in our city. Did you not want some books?”
“I’d like to see some that contain old records and accounts of the early history of the city, about the time that church was built.”
“If you come dis way, please,” he said, bowing, “we shall see what we can find.”
By this time Jo Ann had completely forgotten the feeling of doubt and awe she had felt at first. The Señor was a very gracious host and had not laughed at her strange idea. Eagerly she followed him across the hall to a room only slightly smaller than the drawing room. Bookshelves lined most of the wall space, and a long table and several chairs were the only furniture.
“It’s decidedly a man’s room,” she thought: “restful—quiet—just the kind of a room in which to study.”
Soon she and the Señor were oblivious of everything. They had something in common—books—even if they were in Spanish. In a short time they were chatting pleasantly, unconsciously using a mixture of English and Spanish. Together they searched old books and records, laying aside several for her to take home so that she might study them at her leisure.
In the meantime, Señora Rodriguez had taken the other guests to the patio to see her flowers, and after about half an hour she came to the library door and called softly to her husband, “Papa, you must not keep the young lady here so long—she will get tired.” Addressing Jo Ann she asked, “Perhaps you like to see my flowers, eh?”
“I’d love to,” replied Jo Ann, unconscious of having spoken in Spanish.
“We have the merienda first, then I show you the flowers,” she said, leading Jo Ann to where the girls and Dr. Blackwell were seated in the cool pleasant court beside the flower garden.
“What could be more beautiful and restful?” Jo Ann thought as she gazed across the patio with its stuccoed wall overhung with flowering vines, its fountain tossing sparkling sprays of water into the sunshine, and its roses, jasmine, and orange blossoms filling the air with their mingled fragrance.
By this time the servants had noiselessly brought in the refreshments and placed them on an exquisitely inlaid tea table. While Señora Rodriguez passed rich little cakes and sweet buns with squares of jalea, a stiff jelly, the servants served thick black coffee and delicious, rich chocolate beaten to a froth.
“Jo, isn’t this simply gorgeous!” sighed Peggy happily. “I’ve never enjoyed anything more in my life.”
Jo Ann nodded an emphatic assent, adding, “And I’ve never seen such a beautiful patio before.”
After Señora Rodriguez had proudly shown Jo Ann her flowers, Dr. Blackwell announced that he had several calls yet to make and that they would have to leave. Silently the girls rose to go. With true Mexican courtesy Señora Rodriguez loaded them down with flowers and kissed each girl on both cheeks, but to Jo Ann’s relief there was no patting on the back.