JO ANN’S SECRET QUEST
According to her promise to take the girls to the market with her,
Florence called Peggy and Jo Ann the next morning as soon as she awoke.
It was only half-past six, but the sun was already making a geometric
pattern across the floor where it shone through the iron bars of the
window.
Jo Ann was impatient to start the minute she had finished dressing.
Yesterday she had looked forward to the trip only because it would be
interesting, but now she was eager to find a store where she could buy
the rope she needed for exploring the mysterious window. She knew that it
would be difficult to make this purchase without Florence’s finding out
about it, but if she could only find where to get the rope she could
return later, alone, and buy it.
“Oh, hurry up, Peg,” scolded Jo Ann as she stood in the doorway, waiting.
“You’ve primped long enough. We’re just going to market—no one’ll see
you.”
“But what’s the hurry?” calmly inquired Peggy as she patted the waves of
her auburn hair into place. “It wouldn’t hurt your appearance any if you
spent a little more time primping, as you call it.”
“Well, if I were as fussy as you are——” Jo Ann began; then, leaving the
sentence unfinished, she disappeared into the hall. There was no use
arguing with Peggy. She just wouldn’t hurry—every hair must be in place.
A few minutes later, when Peggy and Florence joined her in the hall, Jo
Ann asked with a meaning glance toward Felipe, who was waiting with a
split-cane basket on his arm, “Do we have to take him along?”
“Why, yes; he always goes with me to carry the basket,” explained
Florence in surprise.
“I’ll carry the basket for you, and we won’t need him,” Jo Ann
volunteered quickly.
Florence shook her head vigorously. “You’re not a servant, Jo. I wouldn’t
think of letting you carry the basket. That would never do.”
“Oh, well—all right, then. Just as you say.”
Although she had smilingly agreed with Florence, she realized that it
would be more difficult to carry out her plan with Felipe along. His keen
eyes saw everything.
“Felipe reminds me of a faithful watchdog,” she remarked as they started
down the stairs. “I’m glad he can’t understand English—there’s some
consolation in that.”
This would complicate matters considerably, having Felipe along; still,
she could not say more about leaving him at home.
“He’s just eager to be of service, that’s all,” explained Florence.
“You should’ve seen him yesterday when he caught me slipping up the
stairs. You’d have thought he was a contortionist or something, from all
the motions he went through in trying to tell me the sun was bad for my
head.”
“I can easily imagine how he looked,” smiled Florence. “He is comical
when he gets excited. I hope you girls don’t mind walking,” she added as
they reached the street.
“No, we don’t mind, only I won’t be responsible for my appetite when we
get back,” replied Peggy lightly.
“I think it’ll be wonderful to walk this morning,” put in Jo Ann. “It’s
so cool and pleasant, and we can see more when we walk—not that I don’t
like to ride, of course.”
Although the sun was painting the tops of the buildings with gold, the
narrow tunnel of a street still held the cool freshness of the night. As
Jo Ann drew in deep breaths of the invigorating morning air, she wondered
what Florence would say if she knew her real reason for wanting to walk.
Chatting gaily, they strolled arm in arm, while Felipe followed a short
distance behind.
All along the way there were many curious, interesting things that caught
both Peggy’s and Jo Ann’s attention—peons with trays or baskets either
balanced on their heads or set on little portable stands; women squatting
on the sidewalks selling flowers and fruits, _tortillas_, _tamales_, and
other foods; beggars waiting on every corner trying to rouse the sympathy
of the shoppers.
While the lively, talkative Peggy plied Florence with question after
question about the people and their strange customs, Jo Ann had an
opportunity to peer into each of the queer little shops they passed. She
even stared at all the little stands in the street, almost expecting to
see a rope dangling from one of them, so intent was she upon her search.
Even though everything imaginable seemed offered for sale, she found
nothing that in any way resembled a rope.
“Where do they sell rope in this curious place?” she wondered. If she
could persuade Florence to return home along another street, perhaps
she’d find a store there where she could get it.
Her perplexing problems were forgotten a moment later as the market
loomed before them. It was a huge old building occupying an entire block.
The immense roof was supported by heavy stone columns and broad arches
which showed signs of having been, at one time, tinted in bright colors
but now looked dull and faded. The plaster was cracked and soiled, and in
places great slabs had fallen off, leaving the bare stones exposed.
“Oh, I love this!” exclaimed Jo Ann. “It’s one of the most interesting
places I’ve ever seen. The people—their dress—their customs—the very
atmosphere is different. It’s hard to realize this is the twentieth
century when you look around here.”
“Yes, it is very old and much the same as it was centuries ago,” replied
Florence.
Stalls had been set up in every inch of available space inside the
building. Some were piled high with golden tropical fruits—oranges,
mangoes, guavas, bananas, pineapples; others were festooned with strings
of onions, garlic, and red chili peppers—all very necessary to add a
piquant flavor to the limited fare of the Mexican.
Slowly they made their way along the narrow, crowded passageways between
the stalls, Peggy and Jo Ann stopping every few minutes to question
Florence about the different things they saw.
Finally, after glancing at her watch, Florence stopped abruptly and
exclaimed, “Gracious! It’s after nine o’clock—I’ll never get through at
this rate—not if I stop to answer all of Peggy’s numerous questions.” She
laughed and gave Peggy’s arm an affectionate pat. “Would you girls like
to wander around and take in the sights while I finish my marketing?”
“Yes, we’d love to,” promptly answered Jo Ann. “Wouldn’t we, Peg?”
“Yes, indeed!”
“If you’re sure you don’t mind being left alone, I’ll hurry on. Stay in
this section of the building so I can find you.” In a moment Florence and
the faithful Felipe disappeared in the crowd.
Jo Ann was delighted to be free to carry on her search for a rope without
fear of being questioned. Although she felt sure that Peggy would enter
into her plans, she decided not to tell her about them just yet.
Grabbing her by the arm, Jo Ann jostled and pushed their way through the
crowd, up one aisle and down another.
Suddenly the breathless Peggy halted. “Say—where’s the fire?” she
scolded. “I can’t see a thing, trying to keep up with you. Why the rush?”
“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to hurry so fast,” Jo Ann replied; then,
realizing she dared not waste time arguing if she was to accomplish what
she had started out to do, she added, “Can you keep a secret, Peg?”
“A secret!” repeated Peggy staring at her in surprise. “Of course I
can—why?”
“Well, I’m trying to find a shop or a store—or whatever it is—where you
buy rope in this place. You see, all I need is a rope—then I can explore
the mysteries on the other side of that curious window.”
“But why so secretive about——” Peggy stopped abruptly, it having dawned
on her why Jo Ann had acted so strangely all the morning. “So that’s why
you didn’t want Felipe along, is it?”
“Yes, he gets on my nerves. All the way here I could feel his eyes boring
into my back every time I craned my neck to see something.”
“You’re imagining things, Jo. It’s just your guilty conscience. He’s
really the perfect servant—very quiet and accommodating, but not
inquisitive.”
“Maybe you’re right—but still I’m glad he’s out of the way. Come on,
we’ll have to hurry, or they’ll be back.” She caught hold of Peggy’s arm
to keep from getting separated in the crowd, then continued, “You
remember how horrified Florence was yesterday when I mentioned my plan to
climb that scaffold—well, I don’t want her to find out what I’m doing.
It’d only worry her, and I have no intention of giving it up.”
A dubious expression crept into Peggy’s hazel eyes. “I still think you’re
foolish to risk breaking your neck for something no more important than a
hole in a wall.”
“You never can tell, though, what might be behind the hole,” said Jo Ann
with an air of mystery.
“But, Jo, how’re you going to get a rope without Florence’s seeing it?
It’ll make a bulky-looking package, won’t it?”
“If it does, I won’t get it now. If we can only find where to buy it, we
can slip back later. You’ve got to help me get it without Florence’s and
Felipe’s seeing it.”
“Well, all right, I suppose I’ll have to do it if you’re determined to go
on with your plans—but really I feel terrible about doing anything
Florence doesn’t approve of. She and her father’ve been so lovely to us.”
“But I’m not going to do anything to disgrace them. I wouldn’t do that
for anything. I really feel that they won’t object at all after I’ve
solved the mystery. Florence is just afraid I might get hurt climbing up
on that roof. You know well enough I’ve done lots more dangerous things
many a time.”
Suddenly spying an Indian woman with a basket of exquisite roses, Peggy
stopped, saying, “Forget about your old rope for a minute, Jo, and help
me buy some of these beautiful roses. Aren’t they the most gorgeous
things you’ve ever seen? Ask her how much they are.”
Jo Ann quickly raked her memory for the proper Spanish words to use in
buying the flowers. “_Cuanto rosas?_” she asked finally.
While talking rapidly in Spanish, the woman picked up a long-stemmed,
beautifully shaped bud of shell-pink color edged with silver, and then
held up three fingers of her left hand.
“She says they’re three _centavos_ each,” explained Jo Ann.
“Tell her I’ll take a dozen.”
“_Un dosena_,” she repeated in Spanish.
“Is that all you do—just add an a to the English words—rose-a, dozen-a? I
could do that,” laughed Peggy.
“Don’t ever think it’s that simple, but there are several Spanish words
which are much like the same words in English,” Jo Ann explained, feeling
quite proud of her superior knowledge.
As the woman had seldom sold more than three or four flowers at a time,
she had great difficulty now in figuring the cost of a dozen. Finally Jo
Ann offered her assistance, and after arguing for some little time, Peggy
received her change and the roses, and they started on their way again.
“Gracious! I feel like a bride with all these flowers,” laughed Peggy.
“Suppose you take half of them.”
“All right—that’s the very thing.” Jo Ann’s eyes sparkled. “If I can only
find the rope now, I can carry the bundle under these flowers, and it
won’t be noticed.”
A moment later Peggy called to Jo Ann to stop again. “Just look at these
beautiful blankets! Feel how soft they are and see how beautifully the
colors are blended.”
“Yes, they are lovely. I’ve heard that they’re all hand made by the
natives—that the designs are handed down in the families for generations.
But, Peg, we haven’t time to stop here now.”
“Just look at that blanket hanging over there! It looks like the rainbow,
the way the colors are shaded into each other. Don’t you love it?”
On receiving no answer from Jo Ann, Peggy turned around just in time to
see her disappear in the crowd. Quickly she began pushing her way to the
spot where she had last seen her.
“I don’t relish the idea of getting lost in this crowd of people who
can’t understand a single word I say,” she told herself, as she darted in
and out among the slow, deliberate Mexicans.
After looking about in all directions, to her great relief she spied Jo
Ann standing before an enclosed booth, piled high with baskets,
_sombreros_, hand-made chairs, and various other articles. Coming nearer
she saw what had attracted Jo Ann’s attention—several long coils of rope
hanging near the back of the booth.
“Jo Ann Cutrer, what do you mean by running off like that!” she scolded.
With only a nod at Peggy, Jo Ann stood gazing at the rope, her forehead
wrinkled in deep thought.
“Oh dear!” she murmured. “I can’t think of the Spanish word for rope.
What can it be?”
“Why don’t you add an a to rope as you did before,” suggested Peggy,
smiling.
“Rope-a, rope-a,” repeated Jo Ann several times; then her face
brightened. “I believe that is the word. I’m sure I’ve heard that word
before.”
Turning to the man in charge of the booth, she repeated in Spanish,
“_Cuanto la ropa?_”
The man looked amazed at first, then stared blankly at her.
“I want _la ropa_,” she repeated impatiently.
With a shrug of his shoulders, the man shook his head and pointed to
another booth farther down the aisle. The next moment his face
brightened, and, reaching over, he handed her a basket.
“No—no!” exclaimed Jo Ann, frowning more deeply than ever.
“Maybe he doesn’t understand what you’re saying, Jo,” Peggy suggested,
smiling. “Maybe that’s not the right word for rope.”
“Something’s wrong, that’s certain,” Jo Ann replied.
Turning to the man again, she pointed to the back of the booth behind a
stack of _sombreros_. “See, I want that rope back there.” A broad smile
spread over his bronze face as he picked up several of the hats and
handed them to her.
Jo Ann shook her head vehemently. “No—no.”
Since the only thing left near the hats was the coil of rope hanging on a
peg behind them, he handed her the rope.
“_Sí, sí_,” she replied, and reached over to take the rope from him. “How
much is it?” she asked in Spanish.
As soon as he replied she answered promptly, “_Bien_—I’ll take it,” and
handed it back to him to be wrapped.
To her amazement he unfastened the coil and spread the rope out before
her to show her how long it was, then jerked on it to show its strength.
“_Sí, sí_—that’s all right, but wrap it up—and hurry, please.”
“He’s the slowest person I ever saw,” she murmured to Peggy. “I’m afraid
Florence’ll find us before I get it wrapped. I hardly think she’ll notice
it under these roses, do you?”
Once more the Mexican handed her the rope without any sign of wrapping
and with one long end dangling from the loose coil.
“Jo, look!” Peggy put in quickly, pointing to the next booth. “They don’t
wrap their packages here. That’s why he didn’t understand you.”
“Horrors! I can’t carry it this way—what’ll I do? I’d like to——” She
stopped suddenly as a familiar voice behind her exclaimed, “Oh, here you
are! I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”
Jo Ann dropped the rope as if it were a hot coal.
“I was beginning to think you girls were lost,” Florence went on.
“Not lost, just misplaced,” put in Peggy quickly to cover Jo Ann’s
confusion.
“Come on, we’ll have to hurry now,” Florence urged. “I know Juana’s had
breakfast waiting for us for a long time.” She turned and led the way out
of the market.
When they had gone only a few steps, Jo Ann suddenly gave a little gasp
and catching Peggy by the arm exclaimed in a low voice, “Gee! I made a
ridiculous mistake. I’ve just remembered what the word _ropa_ means—it’s
clothes. I was asking the man for clothes! No wonder he couldn’t
understand what I meant!”