THE PROMENADE
“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.