PUZZLING OVER THE PUZZLE
Now minus a cook, it remained to the Wayfarers to prepare their own
luncheon. Not stopping to bewail their cookless state, the four girls,
under the direction of Miss Martha, attacked the task with the utmost
good humor.
Miss Carroll, however, was not so optimistically inclined. Mammy Luce’s
sudden departure had deprived her of a skilled cook, whom she could not
easily replace. She was thankful that the panic had not extended to the
maids. Providentially, Celia was absent for the day. According to Mammy
Luce, Emily was still in ignorance of the “sperrit’s” visitation. She
had eaten her noonday meal and gone back to her upstairs work before
Mammy Luce had seen the dread apparition.
In the midst of preparations for the belated luncheon, she appeared
in the kitchen, broom and duster in hand, her black eyes round with
curiosity at the unusual sight which met them.
In as casual a tone as she could muster, Miss Carroll informed the girl
that Mammy Luce had left Las Golondrinas. This news appeared not to
surprise Emily so much as had the sight of the “young ladies an’ the
Missis aworkin’ in de kitchen.”
“Huh!” was her scornful ejaculation. “I guess ole Luce done got skairt
’bout dat ere ghos’. Carlos wuz tellin’ her ’bout it t’other day. That
Spanish fellah in the queer duds up thar in the pitcher gallery done
walk aroun’ this house. He go fer to say he’s seen it. He am a liar.
They ain’t no sech things ’s ghos’es, I says, but Luce, she says they
is. She wuz ’fraid she’d see it.”
“Certainly there are no such things as ghosts, Emily,” Miss Martha made
haste to agree. “I am glad to find you so sensible on the subject.
Since you have mentioned it, I might as well say that it was this ghost
idea which caused Mammy Luce to leave us.”
Miss Martha diplomatically avoided making a direct explanation of
the affair. Once Emily learned Mammy Luce had insisted that she had
actually _seen_ a ghost, she might not remain firm in her conviction
that there were “no sech things.”
“I hope Celia has no such foolish ideas about ghosts as Mammy Luce,”
Miss Carroll continued inquiringly.
“Celie, she’s ’bout half an’ half. She says as thar might be or
mightn’t. Only she says she ain’t gwine to git skairt ’less she sees
one. Celie’n me, we don’t take no stock in that good-fer-nuffin’
Carlos. He am a sorehead, he am. Ef it’s ’greeable, Mis’ Carroll, I
reckon I ain’t sech a bad cook. Leastways, I don’ mind tryin’. Ef yoh
likes mah cookin’ mebbe I can git mah sister t’ come an’ do mah work.”
This was joyful news indeed. Needless to mention, Miss Carroll was not
slow to take good-natured Emily at her word.
“I shall be very glad to have you try, Emily,” she said. “If you can
get along with the cooking it will save us the trouble of sending
to Miami for another cook. Where does your sister live? Perhaps she
wouldn’t care to come here for so short a time.”
“She lives home with mah mudder, Mis’ Carroll. Jes’ a little ways from
Miami. She am only fifteen, but she am right smaht. I done gwine t’
write her t’night,” assured Emily, showing her white teeth in a wide
grin.
“Do so, Emily. To have your sister come here will simplify matters
wonderfully.”
Miss Martha looked her relief at this unexpected solution of the
domestic problem.
With the deft assistance of Emily, the luncheon which the Wayfarers had
busied themselves in preparing was soon on the dining-room table. It
consisted of bread and butter, bacon, an omelet, and a salad, composed
of tomatoes, green sweet peppers and lettuce, with French dressing. The
fateful cake which Mammy Luce was removing from the oven when she saw
the “sperrit” now figured as dessert along with oranges which Patsy had
painstakingly sliced and sugared.
Previous to Emily’s disappearance, the preparation of luncheon had been
accompanied by much talk and laughter on the part of the Wayfarers.
Presently seated at table, they had considerably less to say. Emily’s
revelation concerning Carlos had set them all to wondering and
speculating.
“It strikes me that this Carlos has very little good sense,” Miss
Martha criticized the moment Emily had left the dining-room. “He should
have known better than tell such a tale to old Mammy Luce. I shall
speak to your father about him, Patsy.”
“When we asked him about the portrait gallery he said he didn’t know a
thing,” Patsy replied with a puzzled frown. “Do you suppose he really
told Mammy Luce about the picture and the ghost? If he did, that proves
he wasn’t telling us the truth. Now why should he lie to us?”
“Very likely to get rid of answering your questions,” responded her
aunt. “Undoubtedly he knew better than to tell you girls such a silly
story. He knew you would refer to it to your father and that Robert
would be displeased. I believe Emily, of course. As to Mammy Luce, I
don’t know. It is exactly the sort of foolish yarn that I warned you we
were likely to hear down South. I am sorry that it should have cost us
our cook.”
The tale of the ghostly cavalier was not disturbing Miss Carroll in the
least. The loss of a cook was of far greater importance to her.
The Wayfarers, however, were more impressed by Mammy Luce’s ghost than
they dared allow Miss Carroll to guess. During luncheon four pairs
of bright eyes continually exchanged significant glances. They were
burning to talk things over among themselves.
Miss Carroll’s announcement that she intended to take a nap directly
after luncheon gave them the longed-for opportunity. Patsy’s demure
invitation, “Come on into Bee’s and my room, Perry children,” held
untold meaning.
“Girls,” began Patsy solemnly, the instant the door of the room closed
behind the quartette, “there’s something queer about this old house.
There’s something queer about that picture. Carlos knows more than he
pretended to know. I wouldn’t feel so--well, so funny about it if I
hadn’t thought I saw that cavalier in the picture move. It gives me the
shivers. Do you suppose there is----Oh, there simply can’t be a _ghost_
in this house!”
“Of course there isn’t,” smiled Bee. “Brace up, Patsy. You’re just
nervous over that picture business this morning. I think perhaps Carlos
told Mammy Luce that story just to be malicious and scare her. He
looks like that sort of person. Maybe he dislikes us as much as his
grandmother appeared to, and just because we live in the house that
belonged to his former employer.”
“If that’s the case, he may have told the yarn to Mammy Luce on purpose
to get her to leave, and so inconvenience us,” suggested Eleanor. “He
may have thought she’d leave in a hurry without telling us why she was
going.”
“Let’s begin at the beginning and see what we know,” proposed Bee.
“First, there’s crazy old Rosita who called us thieves and said we’d
never find something or other that Camillo, whoever he is or was, had
hidden. Second, there’s Carlos, who turned out to be the grandson
of Rosita, who said she was not crazy but pretended to know nothing
else about anything here. Third, there’s Mammy Luce, who went off and
left us because she saw, or thought she saw, a ghost. Fourth, there’s
Emily, who said Carlos told Mammy Luce that the ghost of the cavalier
in the picture gallery walked about this house. Fifth, there’s Patsy,
who heard an odd noise in the gallery and saw, or thought she saw, the
cavalier picture move. Put it all together. Does it mean something or
nothing?”
“No one except Carlos can answer that question. The whole thing, except
Patsy’s scare, centers on him,” declared Mabel.
“I’m going to have a private talk with Dad,” announced Patsy. “I’m
going to ask him not to speak to Carlos about the ghost story, but to
let him alone and see what happens next. If he really has a grudge
against us he’ll be sure to do something else to bother us. We’ll be on
the watch and in that way we’ll catch him at it. Then maybe Dad can
make him tell what he wouldn’t tell us.”
“But what about your aunt, Patsy?” conscientiously reminded Eleanor.
“She’s going to ask your father to speak to Carlos, you know.”
“I’ll see Dad first and explain things. I’ll ask him to tell Auntie,
when she mentions Carlos to him, that he thinks it would be a good idea
to let Carlos alone for the present and watch him. It _is_ a good idea,
and I know Dad will agree with me. I’d say so to Auntie myself if I
were sure she wouldn’t mind. She would, though, because she’s not in
sympathy with us when it comes to mysteries.”
“If any more queer things happen, Miss Martha will have to admit that
there _is_ a mystery hanging over Las Golondrinas,” Bee predicted. “I
forgot to add Dolores to the list. She’s another mystery.”
“She surely is, but she doesn’t belong to the Carlos puzzle,” returned
Patsy. “Never mind, give us time and we’ll put all the pieces of all
the puzzles together. We’re determined to do it. That’s half the
battle.”
“We may even find the secret drawer,” supplemented Mabel hopefully.
This remark was received with derisive chuckles. Her companions had
come to regard the mythical secret drawer as a huge joke.
“Laugh at me if you want to. When I find it, then it will be _my_ turn
to laugh at _you_,” Mabel emphasized.
“_When_ you do, we’ll stand in line and let you laugh at us,” jeered
Eleanor.
“I’ll remember that,” retorted her sister. “I’m going to the
sitting-room now to patiently pursue my indefatigable investigations.
Ahem! ‘Never despair’ is my motto.”
“‘Sleep, sweetly sleep,’ is going to be mine,” yawned Eleanor. “I’m
going to take a nap.”
“I’d _like_ to go down to the orange groves.” Patsy beamed
significantly upon Beatrice. “I’m not supposed to trail around this
vast tract of terrestrial territory alone. If some one will kindly
volunteer----”
“I’ll take pity on you,” laughed Bee. “Come on. While we’re about it we
might as well lug a basket along and fill it with oranges. ‘Try to be
useful as well as ornamental.’ That’s _my_ motto.”
“Mine is: ‘Be thankful for small favors,’” retaliated Patsy with an
impish grin. “Allow me to escort you to the kitchen for the basket.
Good-bye, Perry children. We’ll see you later.”
Patsy offered her arm to Bee with an extravagant flourish and the two
girls left the room laughing. Mabel promptly made a bee-line for the
sitting-room, while Eleanor went to her own room for her nap.
Bee and Patsy spent an enjoyable but uneventful hour in the orange
groves, returning with their basket piled high with luscious fruit.
Mindful of her intent to have first audience with her father on his
return that afternoon, Patsy posted herself on a balcony overlooking
the drive to watch for him.
When, at five o’clock, he drove the car up the drive, he was met
halfway to the house by his daughter who imperiously demanded a ride to
the garage.
Informed of all that had recently occurred and the course of action
Patsy had laid out for him, Mr. Carroll looked decidedly grave.
“I’m sorry to hear this of Carlos,” he said. “So far as work goes,
he’s an excellent man. I’m going to adopt your suggestion, Patsy, to
say nothing to him at present about this ghost business. I’ll explain
to your Aunt Martha so that she’ll be satisfied to let matters stand
as they are. Of course, if he continues to stir up trouble among the
maids or my black boys by frightening them with ridiculous yarns about
ghosts, then I shall feel obliged to come down on him for it.”
“Have you asked him yet about either old Rosita or Dolores?”
Having related to her father all she knew of both, Patsy now referred
to them by name.
“Yes.” Mr. Carroll smiled. “I described them to him this morning and
inquired about them. He had nothing to say beyond that this Rosita was
his grandmother and not insane. He swears that he never saw this girl
Dolores.”
“I don’t believe him,” Patsy said with a vigorous shake of her auburn
head. “She has lived in this neighborhood several years. She told
me so. He was brought up here. He must have seen her often. He’s a
Spanish-speaking Mexican and she’s Spanish. He must certainly know who
she is. Why he should deny knowing her I can’t imagine. Just the same,
it’s something I intend to find out, if only for my own satisfaction.”