 Chapter 1 of The Secret of Casa Grande, by Helen Randolph. The Mysterious Window Aroused by a slight noise in the room, Jo-Ann sleepily tossed back the turbulent black curls from her forehead and slowly opened first one eye, then the other. She lay staring half dastily as the solid door-like shutters swung back, letting the rays of the morning sun-filter into the room through the iron bars of the window. Where was she? By the iron bars. Slowly her gaze travelled over the room, taking in the high, heavily beamed ceiling, the bare-plastered walls, and finally resting on Peggy sleeping peacefully beside her. Everything floated again before her mind's eye. Their long trip to Mexico, their midnight arrival at this great old stone house, and their warm welcome by Peggy's friend Florence Blackwell, whom she had never seen before. The next morning, the Indian woman who had awakened her by opening the heavy shutters noiselessly crossed the room and began arranging the dishes on a small table beside the bed. Buenos días, señorita. Good morning, Miss. She said softly in Spanish as she noticed that one of the girls was awake. Ah, Buenos días, stammered Jo-Ann. Again the woman spoke to her. But Jo-Ann shook her head. After the woman had repeated her words very slowly, she was able to understand a few phrases. Disturbed by their voices, Peggy suddenly sat up in bed, opening wide her dark, fringed hazel eyes. She too was startled for a moment by the unfamiliar surroundings, then, noticing the servant, and the expression on Jo-Ann's face. She burst out laughing. What's the matter, Jo? She asked teasingly a moment later. Can't you understand what she's saying? I think she's trying to tell me something about Florence, but I'm not sure. I wonder where she is. Almost simultaneously, there burst into the room a small trim girl with smooth, fair hair and gentin blue eyes. Good morning, sleepy heads, she laughed, dropping down on the foot of the bed and fanning herself with a large sun hat. Girls, this is Juana. Did she deliver my message? She tried to, Jo-Ann replied, but I'm afraid she wasn't very successful. Turning to the servant, Florence spoke rapidly in Spanish. Juana grinned broadly, bowed to the girls, and jabbered something they could not understand. She's trying to tell you how happy she is that you have come to stay with her Florence Seta, explained Florence. Tell her that we're delighted to be here, put in Peggy promptly. How I envy you, being able to speak Spanish that way, Florence, Jo-Ann sighed. I'd give anything to do half as well. Florence smiled. Oh, you'll get on to it in no time. As she had lived more than half of her sixteen years in Mexico, Spanish was perfectly natural for her. It seemed so simple that sometimes she found it easier to express herself in Spanish than in English. Though I've studied it two years, I have my doubts about ever being able to speak it fluently, said Jo-Ann slowly. Noticing Florence flushed face, she added. Where you've been? What time is it? Almost ten o'clock. I've just been to market. To market? Why don't you call us? Well, I knew you girls would be tired and sleepy after your trip. So I didn't disturb you. I go to market early every morning. I like to do the buying myself. Promise you'll call me next time. I didn't come down here to lie in bed and sleep all the time. There's too much to do and see. All right, then, I'll call you tomorrow. But come on, let's have breakfast. I'm ravenous after my walk, and I know you two must be starving. If having breakfast served in bed is your idea of our helping you to keep house, then I'm all for it. Declared Peggy gaily, as she flopped her pink pajama tillegs over the side of the bed. It suits my taste exactly. Florence nodded smilingly toward Juana. It wasn't my idea. It was hers. She'd be terribly hurt if we didn't let her wait on us. After you two get rested from your trip, though, I'll set you to work planning meals and cooking and everything. Well, I'm going to enjoy being waited on as long as I can, laughed Peggy. Sitting on the side of the bed, clad in their gay pajamas, and eating their breakfast from an exquisitely inlaid tea table, Peggy and Joanne felt very sophisticated indeed. This is the most delicious orange juice and the best toast I've ever tasted, declared Joanne a moment later. It's the best breakfast I've ever eaten in my whole life," added Peggy with her usual exaggeration. Florence turned to the servant who had just returned with a plate of hot toast and repeated their remarks in Spanish. From that moment Juana was their devoted slave, anticipating their every wish. As soon as they had finished breakfast, Joanne and Peggy dressed for the street, Florence insisting, much to their disapproval, that they wear hats. The sun is too hot here in the middle of the day to go out without something on your head, she explained. While Peggy was arranging her hair in neat, auburn waves, Joanne, who had finished her hasty toilet, stepped to the door leading into the hall, and stood taking in every visible detail of the strangely constructed building, the immense rooms each opening unto the large central hall seemed dark and gloomy, owing to the thick walls, the concrete floor, the heavy doors, and the iron-barred windows. Though the bright-coloured rugs, the gay-flowered chintz, and a few well-chosen pictures added a cheerful home-like note, the general effect was one of austere simplicity. Having noticed Joanne's interest, Florence came up beside her and, slipping her arm around her waist, asked, How do you like our house? It's very old, you know. I love old houses. Joanne replied quickly, This one is extremely interesting, so different from anything I've ever seen. She hesitated, then added, I've been thinking of studying architecture when I go to college. Would you care to see the rest of the house? There are some rather unusual features about it. Joanne's dark brown eyes sparkled. I adored it! I, too, put in Peggy, who had come out in time to hear Florence's words. Florence pointed to the open door on the right. This is the sitting-room. But Mother and I stay in the office with Dad more than in here. Come on, and I'll show you the office. She led the two girls across the hall, but stopped a moment later, saying, The office door's closed. Dad probably has a patient. But I can show you the other rooms. The kitchen is the most interesting room in the house, I think. She took them into the dining room, and onto the end of the long hall, then turned into an immense room, having three large windows, all heavily barred. My goodness! You could most put our whole house into this one room, exclaimed Peggy. I've never seen such a huge kitchen before in a private residence. Why, do you suppose they built it so large? I don't know, I'm sure. It's the strangest house I've ever seen. Just look at the fireplace, for instance. Florence motioned toward one side of the room, which was entirely taken up by a huge fireplace set back in a broad arched recess. It's large enough to belong to some big hotel, and yet we've only two bedrooms in the house. But why did they build the fireplace in three sections? All the fireplace I've ever seen were built on a level with the floor. This one reminds me of the three bears. This section belongs to the Great Bear, and this one, Florence broke into a peel of laughter at Peggy's whimsical idea. No one but you would have thought of that, she said. Juana glanced up from her preparations for lunch, smiling to herself. She had not seen her Florenceita happy for months, not since her mother had been taken ill and had been sent to a sanitarium for several weeks' day. As their laughter died away, Florence went on to explain. You see, the lowest section in the middle was where they built their fire to cook the food. This section here, of medium height, was where they made their tortillas. It's just the right height for the metate, the stone on which corn is rubbed or ground into a paste. There's room here for several women to work at the same time. But what's that Great Bear section used for? Interrupted Peggy. The highest one was used for draining the dishes and earthen cooking utensils. Each corner is covered with smooth hard stones, and here in the corner is a small hole left to let the water drain off. It was a very well-equipped kitchen in its day. Florence was delighted to find that her guests were so interested in the old house which had been her home for many years. She went on to explain that although modern equipment had been installed whenever possible, they had tried to leave the quaint old atmosphere undisturbed. While she was answering Peggy's questions about the new equipment, Joanne was busily taking in the details of the architecture, especially noting the absence of woodwork in the queer windows that had iron bars and no glass. As her gaze wandered to the window at the end of the room, she caught a glimpse of something which sent a little thrill of excitement over her. She crossed the room quickly and started through the iron bars at what seemed to be the ruins of an ancient building. Could this be the ruins of one of those old cathedrals which she had read about and had wanted to see for so long? What's this old building back of your house, Florence? She asked eagerly. Peggy rushed over to the window to see the building that had caused the note of excitement in Joanne's voice, while Florence merely smiled and replied, That's a part of a very old church, now used only by the poorest peons. Joanne's eyes opened in surprise. I don't see how they can use it. It looks as if it were falling down. The main part of the church is all right, but they never use the other part. I don't know whether it was partially destroyed in a war or whether it just caved in from old age. How old do you think this church is? I don't know exactly, but it's several hundred years old. I've heard that it's one of the oldest buildings in this part of Mexico. All the better classes of people attend the large modern cathedral across the plaza. Maybe go over to the old church. I'd love to see it. Why yes, we'll have time to go over there before lunch. There isn't much to see, so it won't take a slung. Florence turned and said something in Spanish to Juana. Then the three girls started out of the kitchen door. Before we go, Florence added, I'll show you this other room just across the hall. There's nothing interesting or unusual about it, though. It has only one window looking out on the back street. There's nothing but the back of that old church to be seen from it. After glancing about this room, they hurried on down to the street. Joanne in the lead. She could scarcely wait to see the old church. As they started across the street, Peggy looked longingly toward the plaza and they crowded streets of the business section of the city. She much preferred sightseeing in that direction, but she knew Joanne had set her heart on seeing the old church and that there was no changing her. A few minutes later the girls passed under the old stone arch and into the vestibule with its font of holy water, then walked softly on into the church. Having come in from the bright sunlight, they were unable at first to distinguish anything except the candles burning on the altar. A reverence silently over the entire building. With their finger to her lips, Florence motioned Joanne and Peggy to a bench. They sat down quietly, careful lest they disturb the peacefulness of the place. As their eyes became accustomed to the dim interior, they noticed several figures with black shoals about their heads and shoulders kneeling at the altar. A woman with a baby in her arms and a tiny, half-naked tot beside her was kneeling before the statue of Mary, mother of Jesus, her lips moving in silent prayer. Thyrus' poverty was evident among all the worshippers. Many minor details that had escaped Peggy's eyes caught in Hell Joanne's attention. The benches, altar rail, and pedestals she noticed were hand-tuned. And decorated with exquisite carving, the statues were different from any that she had ever seen, and even the candles were unusual, probably hand-dipped, she decided. For almost an hour they sat there silent, Joanne intent in absorbing the atmosphere of this ancient building. I feel as if I'd actually step back through the centuries into the Mexico of ages past, she thought grimly. By this time Peggy had began to get restless. To her the place seemed close and stuffy, the odour and fumes of the candles suffocating. Without saying a word, she rose and went outside. Leaning against the wall in the shadow of this stone arch, she waited for the girls, and amused herself by gazing idly at the rare of Florence's home across the street. Florence, I don't like to make remarks about your house, she said half smiling, as Florence and Joanne drew near, but from the rear it looks more like a fort or prison than a home. It reminds me of an old castle with its high stone walls and heavy iron bars at the windows, added Joanne gazing over at the house. Florence smiled good-naturedly. It doesn't look very home like, I'll admit. I don't believe I've ever noticed it before from this viewpoint. I never come to this old church, at least, I haven't been here for several years, as I said before. Only people of the lowest classes attend this church. I didn't see a window in your hall, Joanne suddenly remarked to Florence. I thought I noticed a shaded light burning on that little table at the end of the hall. There isn't a window in the hall. It's dark as pitch there, and we have to keep a light burning day and night. Then how do you account for that little narrow crosswise opening up there in the wall? There it is, on a level with the top of the kitchen and back bedroom windows. I don't know, Florence gazed puzzedly at this small opening. I've never seen a window like that on the inside of the house, and I know, I've seen every inch of the walls inside. Well there it is, a tiny window, just as plain as the nose on your face. In silent amazement, Florence stared at this narrow opening, high up in the bleak stone wall. That's certainly a strange, she said finally, her brows drawn together in a thoughtful frown. It certainly is, agreed Joanne and Peggy, equally mystified. Everything is forgotten now, except this queer window. Why was it there? Into what did it open? End of The Mysterious Window. The Secret of Casa Grande by Helen Randolph. This Lubrivox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Mariuscano. The search begins. This is the strangest thing I've ever heard of, declared Florence as they hurried back to the house, eager to examine the rare wall from the inside. How long have you lived here, Florence? asked Joanne. I'm sure I'd had seen that window long before this, if I'd been in your place. We've lived here about eight years, but, as I told you, I've only been in that church a few times, and I've never walked down that back street. Lived here eight years and never walked back of your own house, exclaimed Joanne in surprise. Who ever heard of such a thing? But you don't understand, Florence replied. It isn't exactly proper for me to wander down that back street. Both girls opened their eyes wide in astonishment. Not proper to go back of your own house, ejaculated Peggy. The very idea. Yes, you see, it's only a narrow street leading to one of the poorest sections of the city. Only the very lowest class of people live on it. Mother and I drive down on the next street sometimes, accompanied by Felipe to carry food and clothes to the destitute families, but I've never been down that narrow street. It must be something like it is on the street cars at home, Joanne said thoughtfully, coming to Florence's assistance. You know how they are, Peggy. One section marked colored, and you never sit there. Up the long flight of stairs, they ran to the Blackwell's apartment. Each girl eager to be the first to solve the mystery. Joanne's long legs carried her ahead of Florence and Peggy, who arrived a moment later out of breath. There stood Joanne, staring blankly at the solid plastered wall at the end of the hall. I'm sure this is where that window ought to be, she said, finally in a perplexed tone. There certainly isn't any sign of Juan that I can see, added Peggy, while Florence gazed silently at the spot where she thought the opening should be. Just then, Joanne ran in from the kitchen to see what had caused so much commotion in the silent old house. Florencita? Guess? What is it? She asked an alarm. It's nothing, replied Florence in Spanish. Understanding the superstitious nature of the Indians, she thought it wiser not to tell Joanne about this mysterious window for the present. Joanne stared in shock, surprised. Something was wrong, she was sure. Young ladies of the best families did not deport themselves in such a manner. Her Florenceita had never acted this way before, racing into the house like mad. Finally, shaking her head and mumbling to herself, she returned to the kitchen to finish her preparations for lunch. The moment she disappeared through the kitchen door, Joanne hastened through the one opposite and called to Florence and Peggy. Come on, maybe we can see something from the window in this back room. Much to their disappointment, the iron bars set in the deep recess of the thick walls prevented them from seeing anything, except a part of the ruins of the old church directly across the narrow street. And so the mystery deepens, laughed Joanne. I've heard of bumping your head against a stone wall, but I've never understood what it meant until now. Do you know what I think it is? remarked Florence as they wandered back to the hall. At one time, there probably wasn't opening here. She motioned toward the solid wall at the end of the hall. Then, sometime when they were fixing the house over, they closed it up. This house is very, very old, you know. But why would they leave a hole in the outside? Peggy asked. Oh, they probably didn't think it mattered on that back street. And maybe the stones didn't fit or something. These walls are so thick, you know, it wouldn't make any difference. It's too small to be a window anyway. Maybe so, commented Peggy. But it sounds funny to me. Joanne was silent. She was thinking, thinking hard. She thoroughly agreed with Florence that the house was old. But she was sure that the opening had not been left by a careless mistake. There's a reason for it, she told herself. And I'm going to find out what it is. Just then, Florence's father, Dr. Blackwell, a tall, distinguished-looking gray-haired man came up the stairs. Good morning, young ladies. He greeted them pleasantly. You look quite fresh and rested after keeping such late Rs. We're feeling the best ever, Joanne answered. Well, you certainly look it, he declared, glancing from one to the other. Florence, you have more color in your cheeks than I've seen for a long time. Miss Jo and his Peggy are having a good effect on you already. Oh, Daddy, we're having a wonderful time. But did you know there's a mystery about our house? We've just made the queerest discovery. Dr. Blackwell laughed. What is it, may I ask? Some mysterious writing on the wall? Or a part of gold? Neither. We found the window that isn't a window. It opens on the outside of the house, but not on the inside. Well, now that's strange, isn't it? He replied smilingly, as though humoring a small child. Really, Dr. Blackwell, there's a mysterious window that should open at the end of this hall, exclaimed Joanne, but we can find no trace of an opening ever having been there. At the moment, Felipe, combination chauffeur and houseboy, announced lunch, and the subject was dropped as they all hastened into the dining room. Peggy and Joanne were surprised to find, after their late breakfast, that they were quite hungry. As Felipe and Juana passed back and forth, waiting on the table, Joanne thought how convenient it was to have servants who could not understand what you said. You didn't have to be nearly as careful as you did at home with the Negro servants. I thought you girls might like to see something of our city. Dr. Blackwell remarked as they were eating their dessert. I've arranged for Felipe to take you for a drive this afternoon. I'd thought I'd be able to accompany you, but a doctor's time's never his own, so I'll have to depend on Florence and Felipe to show you the city. That'll be fine, exclaimed Peggy, but we're sorry you can't go with this, aren't we, Jo? Joanne nodded, an emphatic assent, and then went on to embark to Dr. Blackwell. We saw something very interesting this morning, the old church back of your house. I've been reading early American history a good deal lately, and this church seems very much the same type as the old missions in California. Well, well, smiled Dr. Blackwell, in surprise. I thought the modern young girl used her pretty head solely for thinking of frogs and furblows. Peggy left. Joanne hates dress-up clothes. She'd lived in jogpurs or knickers in shirts if her mother didn't make her get out of them occasionally. She was enthusiastic over horses and dogs and swimming, but her chief hobby's nosing around old buildings. There's so much mystery and romance connected with historic buildings, Joanne put in, shining light. If you're looking for mystery and romance, Dr. Blackwell remarked, there's plenty of it to be found in this part of the country. That is, if you can only find the key to unlock it. I've been so busy studying the ancient system of sanitation, or lack of it, but I've no time for anything of that sort. If you get Joanne started along that line, she'll never stop, put in Peggy with a teasing glance at Joanne. Dr. Blackwell smiled. Then I'll turn her over to a friend of mine, a prominent lawyer who'll be delighted to discuss the early history of this country with her. You know whom I mean with Florence? Senora Rodriguez. Florence nodded. He has the best equipped library in the city, continued the doctor, and you can dig into the past to your heart's content, Ms. Jo. That'll be wonderful, cried Joanne excitedly. I know I'll enjoy meeting him and seeing his library. I adore books, especially about the old historic buildings. As they rose from the table, Peggy remarked, Joanne and I want to run across the plaza to buy some postcards to send home. Do you want to go with us, Florence? Florence and her father exchanged smiling glances as she replied. He can't buy postcards now. The store is closed for an hour or two in the middle of the day. Oh, I forgot I'm in Mexico, laughed Peggy. In tropical countries, it's the custom to take a siesta after lunch. Dr. Blackwell explained. People sleep in the hottest part of the day and do their work in the cool of the evening. It's a very good custom too. Since the sun has a tendency to cause fever, if one is in it too much. On hearing this, the girls meekly followed Florence to their room, and when she removed her dress and shoes and dropped down on the bed, they followed her example. How still it is, thought Joanne. Not a sound floated up from the street below. Not a leaf stirred on the trees in the park across the way. Even nature seemed to be sleeping, so deep, so intense was the stillness. Florence, from habit, was soon sound asleep. The other two girls whispered quietly for a while. Then Peggy's eyelids drooped, and she too succumbed to the restful quiet. But Joanne could not sleep. There were too many things to think about. A visit to the Senor's library. She'd loved that, and that old church across the street. There must be some very interesting facts connected with it. She'd find out more about that later from the Senor's books. But that window, it still puzzled her. There was something curious about it. What was that Dr. Blackwell had said about finding the key to unlock the mystery? That's what I'll do. Find the key and unlock the mystery of this strange window, she told herself. Won't Dr. Blackwell be surprised when I tell him I've solved it? Acting on a sudden impulse, she slipped out of bed quietly, saw us not to disturb Peggy and Florence. What she was going to do, she wanted to do alone. She put on her dress, and some rubber sole shoes. Then picking up a large sun hat from a chair, softly opened the door. There, at the head of the stairs sat Felipe, sound asleep. She hesitated only a moment, then crept softly past him, and on down the stairs. One good thing about these houses is there's no danger for loose board or a creaky step giving you away, she thought. Not a soul was in sight outside, not even a dog. Quickly she ran down the street and around the corner, but drew back as a terrific heat struck her face. Heat waves radiated from the cobblestones, and the white stone walls, acting as double reflectors, turned the narrow street into a veritable furnace. But nothing could stop her now. There was something she wanted to find out about the rear wall of the house. Pulling her hat down farther over her face, she squinted her eyes and gazed up at the glaring white walls above her. Quickly she scratched three marks on the walls, one directly below the kitchen window, one beneath the back room window, and the third beneath the mysterious opening. Then she paced off the distance between the marks. She was positive now that she could mark the exact spot on the inner side of the wall where the opening should be. Eager to escape from the intense heat, she hastened back to the house. It's hot! she exclaimed herself. These Mexicans show good judgment in sleeping at this time of the day. I don't blame them in the least. Fanning herself with her hat, she dropped down on the lower step to cool off a moment. Her refreshing was the coolness of the great hall. She wondered how it was possible to be cool here and so hot outside. She listened intently for a moment, but not a sound came from above. Apparently, everyone was still asleep. Softly she slipped up the stairs, step by step, till she caught a glimpse of the sleeping Felipe just as she had left him. His chair tipped back against the wall and his head dropped forward. There was only one more step now. Holding her breath, she lifted her foot, then suddenly there was a loud, bumping noise. She was so startled that she almost lost her balance. Clutching at the wall, she stared before her. Felipe, lost by some strange instinct, had let his chair down with a bang. Very bad. He exclaimed, pointing to her face. He patted himself on the head and talked rapidly in Spanish, in an effort to make her understand that the sun was bad for the head as he expressed it. Much disgusted with herself for getting caught and eager to escape, she called back, See, see, yes, yes, and hastened on to her room. Now that her plan to measure the hall had been interrupted, she would have to wait till a more opportune time for that. Searching for paper and pencil, she decided to do the next best thing. Put the outside measurements down so there'd be no danger of forgetting them. She was sitting by the window, busily drawing a plan of the house, when Florence called in a surprised voice. Why, Joanne, why have you been? Your face is as red as a beet. It's nothing, she replied. I just went down and measured the position of those windows on the back wall. And was it hot? You mean you've been down there in the sun? Florence could hardly believe her ears. Jo, you shouldn't have done that. At the sound of the voices, Peggy opened her eyes, then sat up in bed to stare at Joanne. For goodness sake, Jo, why have you been up to now? She asked. Oh, nothing, Joanne answered crisply. Why couldn't they leave her alone? She hadn't committed a crime. But, Jo, your face, you're so hot. Well, if you must know, I've been searching for the key with which to unlock the mystery, as Dr. Blackwell suggested. End of Chapter 2. Recording by Mary Escano. Section 3 of The Secret of Casa Grande by Helen Randolph. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Mary Escano. A New Discovery. Looking cool and dainty in their fluffy summer dresses, the girls came lightly down the stairs, ready for their drive around the city. Florence smiled as she noticed the car waiting at the curb. It had been rubbed and polished till it shone. And Felipe, beaming like a child with a favorite toy, was leaning over, brushing a speck of dust off the hood. Snatching off his hat on seeing the girls and grinning wildly, he hastened to open the door of the car. Then, standing very straight, he waited for them to be seated. His effort to uphold the dignity of his position as chauffeur was amusing. After tilting his hat, an old one of Dr. Blackwell's, at a rakish angle, he probably took his place at the wheel. Although the car was not as new and expensive as some they passed, he was sure none carried more beautiful passengers. To the girls' delight, it was much cooler now. Soft breezes were stirring, and the heat was vanishing with the sun, which was sinking behind the high range of mountains to the west of the city. Slowly, Felipe passed the cathedral and circled the attractive little plaza. While the girls gazed admiringly at the formal beds of brilliant blooming flowers and drank in the perfumed air, heavy with the fragrance of wild orange and oleander, now and then, through the foliage of the trees, they could catch a glimpse of the bandstand in the center of the trees. They had band concerts two nights a week here, Florence explained. We'll promenade a while to-morrow night. I know you'll enjoy it. Promenade? What do you mean? asked Peggy. Why, walk around the plaza. On the nights when the band plays, the people of the better classes gather here, and either promenade around the broad walk outside the square, or sit on the benches to talk and listen to the music. That sounds as if it be lots of fun, approved Peggy. At this moment the car came to a sudden stop. In attempting to turn off the broad drive around the plaza, into one of the old narrow streets of the business section, they were held up by the congested traffic. The enforced rest did not bother Felipe in the least. Calmly resting his elbows on the steering wheel, he waited for the way to become cleared. Why doesn't he blow his horn, asked Joanne. Maybe that'd make the move. She noticed, however, that of all the persons in the nearby cars held up in the traffic jam, not one seemed the least bit impatient. These people must have the patience of Job, said Peggy. If this were at home, you'd hear the horns blowing all the way down the line. It takes more than a little thing like this to ruffle the slow, easy-going Mexican, explained Florence. He's never in a hurry. In a short time they were on their way again, moving slowly through the narrow, busy streets. All classes of people and many nationalities were here. Their different modes of dress, interesting Peggy and Joanne, as did the stores with their queer signs and window displays. Although this was the busiest time of the day, they noticed that there was none of the bustling rush characteristic of American cities. On through the less crowded streets, Felipe steered the car into the residential section. Passing several beautiful cathedrals and small parks, artistically laid out around the statue of some noted general or other war hero. Near the outskirts of the city, Joanne noticed, with the keenest interest, that there were all types of architecture, from plain stone structures built centuries ago, and looking dull and drab. Onto modern bungalows, gay with bright tinted stucco and tiled roots. Now and then she could catch glimpses of richly furnished rooms behind the iron bars of a window, and a flower adorned courtyard or patio through an open door. I love the courtyards, she remarked. The great arches, the fountain in the center, and the tropical plants make them beautiful and restful looking. Yes, they are beautiful, agreed Florence. Senora Rodriguez, the lawyer that he told you about, has one of the most beautiful patios in his house that I've ever seen. You'll enjoy seeing it when we go over to see his library. I've wished many times that our house had a patio. I've been wondering why it doesn't. Since all the other old houses have them, there's something strange about the way your house is built. I believe when we solve the mystery of that queer little window, we'll find out some interesting things about the rest of the house. Is that the cathedral in the plaza already? asked Peggy in a surprise just then. How did we get here so soon? I've had such a wonderful time that it seems that we've only started. May I ask a favor, Florence? asked Joanne as they drove up before the house. Let's drive down that street back of your house before we go in. Why, I, I don't think, began Florence stammeringly, then stopped, hardly knowing what to say. He said we couldn't walk down there, didn't you? And I do so want to see it, Joanne urged. After talking to Felipe a few moments, Florence answered with a half-apologetic smile. Felipe says mañana, he'll take us. Manana? repeated Joanne. Oh, you mean tomorrow? Yes, it's too late now. Joanne turned to Felipe, who was opening the door for them. Por favor, Felipe? she begged. Please, Felipe, added Peggy quickly. She was not particularly interested in going down that back street, but it was so pleasant to be out at this time of the evening that she disliked the idea of going back into the gloomy house. He says he'll take us if we insist, translated Florence a moment later, after talking to Felipe again. But really, girls, I feel that we shouldn't go now. It'll be better to go some morning. I can't see what difference it'd make when we go. Come on, Joanne could not understand the Mexican's way of putting off till tomorrow anything he did not care about doing. When she made up her mind to do a thing, she wanted to do it right now. It's silly to make so much fuss about such a simple thing. She thought, why can't you drive down the street when you want to? Well, all right, Florence reluctantly agreed at last. Dusk was falling as they turned into the cobblestone street back of the house. Slowly they made their way over the stones, century-old stones, worn smooth by the tread of many feet. The farther they drove, the more thickly populated the street became. Joanne and Peggy were shocked by the utter wretchedness and abject poverty which they saw on all sides. Dirty, half-clad peyons, with their empty baskets or trays, were shuffling homeward after their day's labor in the city. Old crippled men and women, who had begged all day in the streets, were warily dragging themselves to a place of shelter for the night. The small windowless, adobe huts, which lined each side of the street, seemed overflowing with people. Women with babies in their arms squatted in the narrow doorways, while dogs, pigs, and goats wandered in and out of the houses at will, as much at home as the children. As for the children, they were everywhere. Dirty, naked, half-starved looking. I never imagined anything could be so terrible, shuddered Peggy. Did you, Jo? Joanne shook her head soberly. I didn't realize there was such poverty anywhere. A shout rose down the street. Americanas! Americanas! Children appeared from every direction. They crowded around the car. Some of the larger ones climbed up on the running board and the fenders. Santa for Miss! Santa for Miss! A penny, Miss! A penny, Miss! They cried, holding up dirty, scrawny little hands to them. Oh, Florence! Bad Joanne! Let's stop and give them something. If we stop now, we'd never be able to start again. Florence explained quickly. They'd climbed all over us. Let's throw some pennies out of the windows. Hurdly, they emptied their purses of all the pennies they could find and threw them far into the street. Such shouting and scrambling as followed. The children fought and knocked each other down in their effort to find the pennies. The tiniest ones crying because they could get nothing. It's pitiful, heart-rending. These children fighting over pennies as starved little animals over a bone, thought Joanne. How was it possible for such things to exist, almost at your very door, and yet to be absolutely unseen and unknown? Was this really a part of the beautiful city they had enjoyed seeing such a short time ago? Philippe could scarcely drive without hitting some of the children, yet he dared not stop. He had not wanted to bring the girls down here, as he felt sure Dr. Blackwell would object. But since they were here, he must take care of them. While the children were busily searching for the scattered pennies, Philippe managed to escape the crowd. Quickly, he drove to the end of the street and turned down an old, dry, rocky river bed. The car bumping and swaying as it sped along over the rough cobblestones. Florence shouted Joanne, above the noise as she clung to the side of the car to keep from falling over on Florence. I take back everything I said about you coming down here alone. I understand a lot that I thought foolish. Before I saw this with my very own eyes, we won't have to go far on this rough river bed, Florence called back a moment later. We'll turn at the next corner. This is the widest river bed I ever saw to have so little water in it, putting Peggy above the noise. As the car turned into the next street, Florence replied, Sometimes, when it rains hard in the mountains, this river's full of water. She paused and added, This is the street mother and I've come down frequently to bring clothing for the poor families. Just then, some ragged little children nearby began to wave their hands and call out, Florence smiled and waved back. Those are some of the children we've given clothes. They look as if they need some more. I wish we had some pennies to give to these children too, said Joanne. Let's come back here sometime and bring them something. In a few more minutes, the adobe huts were left behind, and they began passing the plain stone houses of the middle class. With long drawn size, the girls settled back against the cushions, each thinking of the distressing poverty she had seen. Suddenly, down the street, directly in front of them, Joanne spied a tall, ungainly object against the high stone wall. What's that, Florence? She asked. That? Oh, that's a scaffold the workmen are using in doing some repair work in house. But why don't they use ladders? They'd have a time to get a ladder long enough to reach the top of these houses. When they build them, they use big derricks to lift the heavy stones. Then why do they build their houses so high? Asked Peggy. It makes them cool. Florence answered, as the car turned off the narrow street onto the pavement around the plaza. Why, we're almost home! exclaimed Joanne in surprise. Is it possible that this is part of your house? Not exactly, but it's all connected into one long building, she replied, wondering at Joanne's interest. Oh, then that's the very thing. Joanne cried, beaming. Whatever you're talking about, Jo, asked Peggy. Why, how to get up on top of the house, of course. Don't you see, I can climb up that scaffold to the top of the house. Then it'll be easy to let the rope down to the mysterious window. I've been wondering how I'd ever get on top of the house. It's so high. But Jo, you can't do that, gasped Florence in alarm. It's too high. And anyway, you're not going to do it, declared Peggy emphatically. You might get hurt. Don't be silly, scoffed Joanne. I haven't broken my neck yet. No, but it isn't your fault, Peggy retorted. But Jo, suppose someone should see you, exclaimed Florence. You must give up this foolish idea. Would it be a disgrace if someone did see me? Well, it isn't considered proper here for a young lady to do anything on the street which would attract attention. You'd be a regular circus, climbing that scaffold. The street would be jammed with people before you'd get halfway to the top. I'll promise not to give a free performance for the natives, laughed Joanne. But what's to keep me from climbing up there when I wouldn't have an audience? There are times, you know, when people sleep. You couldn't go out in the street at night. Alone. The very idea of such a thing was shocking to Florence. That scaffold's nothing but some rough poles fastened to the wall, and it's so high it'd be dangerous, not at all like climbing a ladder. The car drew up before the house, and Florence and Peggy jumped out and hurried up the stairs without waiting for Felipe to open the door for them. But Joanne lingered a moment to thank him for granting her request. She knew he couldn't understand a word she said, but from the broad grin which spread over his face, she felt she had made her meaning clear to him. The ride had meant much more to her than she had expected, since she had discovered a way of getting up on the roof. All she needed now was a length of rope so she could lower herself from the roof. It isn't going to be hard to do, she told herself, as she went up the stairs. Of course, she would not do anything to disgrace Florence or Dr. Blackwell. They had been so kind to her, but give it up now? Never, not with her goal almost in sight. End of Section 3, Recording by Mariuscano. Section 4 of The Secret of Casa Grande by Helen Randolph. This lip-revox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Mariuscano. Joanne's Secret Quest According to her promise to take the girls to the market with her, Florence called Peggy and Joanne 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 yarn bars of the window. Joanne 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 finding out about it, but if she could only find where to get the rope, she could return later, alone, and buy it. A hurry up Peg, scalded Joanne as she stood in the doorway waiting. You've primed long enough, we're just going to the market. No one will see you. But what's the hurry? Calmly inquired Peggy as she patted the waves of her all-burn 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 fuzzy as you are, Joanne 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, Joanne asked with a meaning glance toward Felipe, who was waiting with a split cane basket in his arm. Do we have to take him along? Why, yes, you always go with me to carry the basket. Explained Florence in surprise. I'll carry the basket for you, and we won't need him. Joanne 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 fateful 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. She'd have 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't 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 Joanne. 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 Joanne 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 Philippe followed a short distance behind. All along the way, there were many curious, interesting things that caught both Peggy and Joanne's attention. Payons 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 lovely, talkative Peggy, applied Florence with question after question about the people and their strange customs, Joanne 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. Why did 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 Joanne. It's one of the most interesting places I've ever seen. The people, their dress, the customs, the very atmosphere is different. It's hard to realize this is the 20th 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 Joanne 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 round and take in the sights while I finish my marketing? Yes, we'd love to, promptly answered Joanne. 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. Joanne 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, Joanne jostled and pushed her 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. Joanne replied. Then, realizing she did 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 Joanne had acted so strangely all the morning. So that's why you didn't want Felipe along, isn't it? Yes. He gets on my nerves. All the way here I could feel his eyes pouring into my back every time I crane 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 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 the wall. You can never tell, though, what might be behind the hole, said Joanne with an air of mystery. But Jo, how you're going to get a rope without Florence is 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 seeing it. Well, all right. I suppose I'll have to do it if you're determined to go on with your plans. But I really feel terrible about doing anything Florence doesn't approve of. She and her father have 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. Joanne quickly raked her memory for the proper Spanish words to use in buying the flowers. Cuánto 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 there are three centavos each, explained Joanne. Tell her I'll take a dozen. Ondosena? She repeated in Spanish. Is that all you do? Just add an uh to the English words? Rosa dosena? How could you do that? Laugh Peggy. Don't ever think it's that simple. There are several Spanish words which are much like the same words in English, Joanne explained, feeling quite proud of her superior knowledge. As the woman had seldom sold more than three or four flowers at the time, she had great difficulty now in figuring the cost of a dozen. Finally, Joanne 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. Laugh Peggy. Suppose you take half of them? All right. That's the very thing, Joanne'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 Joanne to stop again. Just look at these beautiful blankets. Feel how soft they are, and see how beautifully the colors all blended. Yes, they're all lovely. I've heard that they're all handmade 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 Joanne, 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 a great relief, she spied Joanne standing before an enclosed booth, piled high with baskets, sombreros, handmade chairs, and various other articles. Coming nearer, she saw what had attracted Joanne's attention, several long coils of rope hanging near the back of the boot. Joanne cut her. What do you mean by running off like that? She scolded. With only a nod at Peggy, Joanne 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 ah to rope, as you did before? Suggested Peggy, smiling. Ropa, ropa, repeated Joanne 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. Cuanta 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 street. The next moment, his face brightened. And reaching over, he handed her a basket. No, no, exclaimed Joanne, 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, Joanne replied. Turning to the man again, she pointed to the back of the booth behind the 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. Joanne shook her head vehemently. No, no. Since the only thing left near the hats was the coil of rope hanging on a peg behind, he handed her the rope. See, see, she replied, and reaching 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. See, see, 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 will 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 it one long end dangling from the loose coil. Joe, 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, there you are, I've been searching everywhere for you. Joe then 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 Joanne's confusion. Come on, we'll have to hurry now, Florence urged. I know Juan has 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, Joanne 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. End of Section 4, Recording by Marius Gano. Section 5 of The Secret of Casa Grande by Helen Randolph. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Marius Gano. The Siesta Hour. All the way home from the market, Joanne kept wondering what excuse she would make to Florence so that she might go back after the rope. To her delight, the opportunity came sooner than she expected. While the three girls were at the table lingering over their late breakfast, Felipe entered with a message for Florence from her father. Daddy needs my help for about half an hour in the office, she explained. I often assist him in the simple cases. You girls amuse yourselves any way you wish while I'm busy. All right, Peggy answered promptly. I believe I'll run across the plaza to that Curios store we saw yesterday and buy some postcards. I'd like to look at the Curios too. The sun's getting so hot now that you'd better carry my parasol if you're going out. Florence suggested over her shoulder as she left the room. Although Joanne had not said a word, she immediately decided that here was her chance to go back to the market after the rope. Joanne got the parasol and then hastened out the door, Peggy at her heels. Let's go back to the market for the rope first before we go to the Curios store. Joanne suggested as soon as they reached the street. All right, but let's hurry so I'll be sure to have time to stop and get the cards. Replied Peggy. When they reached the market, the crowd had thinned considerably and without much difficulty they found the booth and bought the rope. Peggy smiled widely as they left the booth and remarked teasingly, I noticed you didn't ask for a rope at this time. Joanne grinned good-naturedly. No, I looked it up in my dictionary and found the right word for rope. As it had taken longer to make the trip than they had anticipated, Joanne hurried Peggy along. I've got to get this rope inside the house and hidden before Florence finishes helping her father. Just as they turned the corner by the plaza, Joanne halted abruptly. Peg, look, standing there in the doorway. Felipe, I can't go past him carrying the rope loose like this. Well, I'll tell you, Jo, we've forgotten the postcards. Let's go to the store and get them. And maybe by the time we get back, he'll be gone. To their vexation, when they returned to the same corner 15 minutes later, they found that Felipe was still standing in the doorway. Look, Peg, the watchdog is still there. I'm not going to throw this rope away now that I've got this near home with it. What shall I...? She stopped abruptly. I've got it. I'll slip it inside the parasol. Putting her words into action, she closed the parasol and slipped the coil of rope inside. Peggy laughed. That's the funny-looking parasol, I must say. I don't care if it's funny. You walk close to me and I'll carry the parasol between us. Now, how's that? All right. I suppose... Only I'm sure Felipe is wondering why we're not carrying it over our heads as we're supposed to do. With an effort to conceal their amusement, they hurried on past Felipe and up to their room, quickly snatching the rope from its hiding place. Joanne threw it into her trunk and slammed the lid down with a bag. There, now. I'm glad that much is done. She remarked with a sigh of satisfaction. I hope I didn't have as much trouble using this rope as I've had getting it. Even as she spoke these words, she began thinking of the many problems she still had to solve before she could reach the mysterious window. Would she be able to climb the crude scaffold? How would she be able to fasten the rope after she got to the roof? And how could she manage to do all this without being seen? All through lunch, and later that afternoon, during the siesta hour, these questions kept racing through her mind. Just as they had done the day before, Florence and Peggy quickly succumbed to the heavy drowsy stillness. But not Joanne. The harder she tried to sleep, the more wide awake she became. Finally, in desperation, she got up and sat gazing out of the window. How could she stand this quiet and inaction so long? Glancing down at her watch, she realized it would be at least an hour before Florence and Peggy were awake. Even being outdoors in the hot sun's better than sitting here doing nothing, she told herself. No sooner had this thought entered her mind than she decided to go outside and examine the scaffold on the building at the end of the block. It'll take only a few minutes, and I'll be back before the girls are awake, she thought. Quickly, she rose and slipped noiselessly out of the room and passed the sleeping Felipe at the head of the stairs. Once outside, she hastened on around the corner and looked anxiously down the street to the farther end of the block to see if the scaffold were still there. Good! It's there! she exclaimed herself the next moment. Without a thought about the extreme heat, she ran down the street to the corner, as she gazed up at the high, crude scaffold made of peeled poles fastened together. A slight tinge of fear passed over her. How high it looked and what a blank wall it was fastened on. There wasn't a sign of a window or opening, not even a ledge, to break the smooth, regular surface of the wall. That's the crude scaffold I've ever laid eyes on, she thought, as she examined the hardwood poles which were fastened to the wall in several places by wooden pegs. Near the top of the poles, she noticed that there was a rough platform from which dangled a long rope with a bucket attached to the end. I wonder how the workmen get up to that platform, she thought. Going over to the other side of the scaffold, she discovered that deep notches had been cut at regular intervals in one of the poles for footholds. So this is the way they get up. These notches look awfully far apart though, I wonder if I could reach them. Carefully, she pulled herself up to the first notch, then on to the second and third. Sure, I can climb this, she exalted. This is more fun that I've had in a long time. Up she climbed to the platform and then scrambled over onto it. While she was sitting there resting a moment, she was busily examining the rest of the scaffold to see if she could reach the top of the building. She noticed that, although there were no more notches cut in the pole, there was a cross piece near the top to hold the scaffold in position against the building. If I can only reach that cross piece, I know I can climb up on the roof, she told herself. Cautiously, she rose and, wrapping her legs and arms around the pole, slowly pulled herself up to the cross piece. Then, balancing herself on it, she climbed over the edge of the roof. However hot as she was, she knew that she had no time to cool off since the siesta hour was almost over and the girls would soon be awake. I must not get caught again, she told herself. She looked hastily around the curious roof, noting with surprise that it resembled a flat cement floor with a low, thick stone wall around it. How on earth can I fasten a rope to a roof like this? She asked herself in dismay. While I'm up here, I've just got to see the roof over that mysterious window. If it's like this, what will I do? Do. Hurrying to the division wall, she scrambled over it, only to be confronted by another wall. Undaunted, she climbed over it, and then over still another, till she came in sight of a chimney. This must be the chimney of the big fireplace in the kitchen, she told herself. Climbing up on the broad outer wall of the roof, she peered over, trying to find the position of the mysterious window. Why don't they have window casings or something to show where their windows are? She thought in disgust. She lay flat on her stomach, and leaned farther out over the edge of the building. Although the hot stones burned her, she kept on persistently examining the surface of the wall below, till she made out the outlines of the mysterious opening. She exclaimed loudly, I know I'm scorched. She sprang down quickly, took a pin out of her hair, and tried to scratch a mark with it on the wall directly in line with the window. To her disgust, the hairpin proved to be too frail a tool to have any effect upon the old plaster of the wall. Tossing the pin away, she looked about for some other object which to mark the spot, but on finding nothing, she hurried off toward the scaffold. Have got a rush, or the girls won't be awake and miss me. She told herself as she vaulted the first division wall. In a surprisingly short time, she reached the end of the building. Leaning over the wall, she looked about for the cross piece, on which she must get the foothold before sliding down to the platform below. The next instant, she gasped and drew back. Surely her eyes were deceiving her. Cautiously, she peeped over the wall again. Yes, there were on the platform only a few feet beneath her sat, a Mexican with a bucket of paint beside him. Just then, loud, coarse laughter sounded from the street, and peering down she saw several workmen applauding one of their number who, poised at the bottom of the scaffold, was dramatizing a love scene. Pulling out a piece of white material from his girdle, he pressed it against his lips, then to his heart, talking rapidly all the time. Only two words floated up to her, senorita and amor. As the actor waved the white material in response to the applause, an expression of consternation came into Joanne's eyes. That was her handkerchief. She must have dropped it when she was climbing. The senorita of the silly farce was no other than herself. Horrified, she drew back out of sight. What must she do now? She dared not climb down with those awful men there. If her handkerchief had caused such gaffawing, what would happen when they saw her? Alarmed by these thoughts, she fled back toward the chimney. It would offer a little shelter, at least. What a mess of made of things! She thought as she ran. Peggy's right about my curiosity getting me in trouble. I'm in it now. Huddling behind the chimney in an effort to hide from the workmen, should they come up on the roof and to escape the direct rays of the sun. She wracked her brain for a way to get out of this predicament without disgracing herself. I must not do anything that will hurt Florence or her father, she told herself. Florence said it would never do for a girl to do anything that would attract attention in any way. If I were back home and these were American workmen, I wouldn't have a bit of trouble getting out of this predicament. But down here, and have a time trying to make them understand me, they might think I was crazy or something. But I wouldn't care if it weren't for the Blackwells. There must be some way out of this embarrassing situation. At the same time that Joanne was puzzling over her problem, Peggy was arousing from her siesta. With half-opened eyes, she stretched lazily and looked about the room. Florence was beginning to stir. But where was Joanne? These lazy, quiet oars are hard on a girl of Jo's temperament, Peggy mused. I wonder where she is? And what she's doing? The next moment, Florence sat up, yawned two or three times, then asked drowsily. Where's Joanne? That's what I'd like to know. I just woke up and discovered the bird had flown. Maybe she got tired waiting for us to wake up and went down to the drugstore for a drink. She ought to be back in a few minutes. As Florence slipped out of bed, she remarked tentatively, I've planned a shopping tour for this afternoon. I thought you'd be interested in seeing some of the souvenirs and drone work in the stores. Would love it, replied Peggy promptly, rising at once. I'll hurry and get ready so we'll have a long time to shop. I want to get some of those dainty little tanker chiefs you like you sent me for my birthday. I'm so glad you like them. The Mexicans really do beautiful handwork, but unless you see something you especially want this afternoon, you better wait and get the tanker chiefs directly from the women who make them. They'll be much cheaper that way. A half hour later, Peggy announced proudly, I'm all ready. How about you? Don't you think it's time Jo was back? Yes, I do. I don't see what's keeping her. I'll ask Felipe how long she's been gone. When Florence returned a few minutes later, there was a look of bewilderment on her face. Felipe says he hasn't seen her, she announced. Peggy's eyes opened wide. Why do you suppose she can be then? I'm sure I can't imagine, replied Florence, shaking her head dubiously. Do you suppose? She surely wouldn't. What in the world are you talking about? Broken Florence, seeing the alarm on Peggy's face. I was just wondering if she'd slipped down that back street again. She can't get that mysterious window out of her mind, you know? That's so. But surely after getting caught yesterday, she wouldn't risk it again. I'm afraid for her to be in the sun so much when she's not used to it. Jo doesn't really mean to do anything that isn't right, Peggy defended. But when she makes up her mind, there's no stopping her. A lone frown appeared on Florence's forehead. I'm really worried about her going on with this scheme. I don't see how she can carry it out without being in great danger. Isn't there some way you could persuade her to give it up? No, she isn't afraid of anything, and she's the most determined person I've ever seen. Let's go into Dad's office and out on his balcony so we can watch for her. Suggested Florence a moment later. She'll surely be back in a few minutes. I'm going to give her a piece of my mind. Fumed Peggy. She ought to know better than to go off that way. Something might happen to her. Looking in every direction, the girls were dismayed at seeing no signs of Joanne. She seemed to have disappeared in thin air, said Peggy anxiously. Something must be wrong. She wouldn't stay away this long. Almost simultaneously Florence turned her head, listening. What was that? Didn't you hear someone whistle? The next moment, a faint but distinct whistling note sounded. That's Jo's whistle, explained Peggy. But where is she? Here I am, called a low voice, up on the roof. What? The girls gasped in amazement. Blankly they stared above them as a red flushed face, framed with tousled hair, peeped over the edge of the roof. What in the world are you doing up there? Called Peggy, finding her tongue. I didn't mean to do it, Joanne called down. But I'm caught, and can't get down. Well, how did you get up there in the first place? And why can't you get down? I climbed that scaffold. It was easy. But while I was up here, the workmen came. And now, I can't get down. It's hot as the mischief up here in the sun. End of Section 5. Recording by Marius Gano. Section 6 of The Secret of Casa Grande by Helen Randolph. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Marius Gano. Joanne's predicament. What are you going to do? Called Florence. You'll be sick if you stay up there in the hot sun all the afternoon. Well, I don't see anything else to do till the workmen leave, answered Joanne. If you'll get me that parasol, it won't be so bad. There's a nice breeze, but the sun's terrific. How in the world do you think we can get the parasol up to you? Asked Peggy. Do you think we can fly up there with it? Silly. Just get my rope. It's in my trunk. And throw one end up to me and tie the parasol on the other. Then I'll pull it up. That sounds easy enough, Peggy admitted. I'll run and get it right away. She was starting away when Florence put in. Wait a minute, I'll go with you. Felipe might be at the door and we mustn't let him see the rope. It might gross his curiosity. Chalk him, chloroform him, called down Joanne crisply. Anything. Only get the parasol. Quick. I'll be done to a turn if I stay up here much longer without it. The two girls hurried on to their room. As soon as Peggy had taken the coil of rope from the trunk, she slipped it inside the parasol, saying, This is the way we brought the rope into the house without Felipe seeing it, so we can do it again. As they were entering the hall, Felipe stopped them. Have you found Miss Anita? He asked, using the Spanish word for Joanne's second name, Annette, rather than the longer name of Josephine. Yes, she's here, Florence answered quickly, hurrying off. On reaching the balcony, Peggy whistled softly several times, and Joanne's head appeared over the ledge. Got it? Fine. Pitch it up to me, she called in a loud whisper, as Florence put her finger to her lips and motioned toward the office. Straightening out the rope, Peggy tossed one end of it into the air. Up it sailed, then fell dangling over the balcony rail. It's a good thing I had hold of the other end. She laughed. This grass rope is so stiff, it won't go straight. It would if you'd throw it straight, scoffed Joanne. Coil it up again. I believe it'll be easier to throw that way and pitch it straight up. Obeying directions, Peggy tried again, only to fail once more. Seeing how far Joanne was, leaning over the wall in her effort to catch the rope, she exclaimed, Oh, Jo, don't lean over so far. You make me nervous. Well, it looks as if I'll have to hang by my feet to catch anything you throw. If you just knew how hot it was up here, don't fuss. I'll try again. But this balcony is so narrow that I can't swing my arm. Now, ready? Here goes. Upsailed the coil of rope, straightened Joanne's outstretched arms. It's a good thing I didn't miss again, gasped Peggy. That was work, believe me. Quickly, she fastened the parasol to the lower end of the rope, and Joanne drew it up over the edge of the roof. Perched on the wall of the roof, high above the city, her feet dangling, and the parasol over her head, Joanne presented a queer, almost ridiculous appearance. But to Florence and Peggy, her position seemed anything but amusing. So dangerous did it look that Peggy cried out in alarm. Jo, for goodness sake, get off that wall. Haven't you got into enough trouble for one day? Oh, this would be great, Joanne called back. If the wall weren't so hot, there's a gorgeous view and a delightful breeze. What more could you ask for? She drifted gaily into one of the popular songs of the day. Just picture a penthouse way up in the sky, with hinges on chimneys, for clouds to go by. How can you joke about anything so serious? Asked Florence in a troubled voice. Oh, here comes Dad with a patient. We'll have to leave. I'll give you the signal as soon as we come back. Peggy called softly. Since the office opened with full-length double doors directly onto the balcony, making it almost a part of the room, they hurried toward the door. Before they reached it, however, they met Dr. Blackwell, with a tall, dignified man who, with true Mexican courtesy, bowed politely and begged their pardon for having disturbed them. As soon as the two girls were inside the bedroom, Florence asked anxiously, What are we going to do about Joanne? I'm afraid she'll be sick if she stays up there much longer in that hot sun. I am too, Peggy replied. But I don't know what on earth we can do. Isn't there any other possible way except the scaffold that she can get down? Florence shook her head. Every few minutes, they stopped talking long enough to peep out to see if the coast were clear. After what seemed a long time to them, they heard the voices in the hall, and to their relief, they saw Dr. Blackwell and his patient disappear down the stairs. In a few minutes, Felipe followed with a bag. Except for Juana, we had the house to ourselves now, Florence remarked as they hurried into the office. On reaching the balcony, Peggy gave the signal to Joanne. I thought you'd never come back, Joanne called down softly, almost before the sound had died away. And I'm dying to tell you something. You don't have to whisper now, Florence put in. Dad and Felipe have gone out, and we can stay here and talk to you without fear of interruption. Fine, Locke seems to be with me at last, replied Joanne. While I've been up here alone, I've done some serious thinking, and I have a wonderful plan worked out. It's about time you did some serious thinking, returned Peggy. I'm sorry I got in this mess, but if you can only get me the things I need. I'll be standing down there beside you in a jiffy, Peggy grinned up at her. If it's a sheet for a parachute, I won't get it. Silly, I want an iron bar, and a hammer, or something heavy. You're not going to drop them on the workman, are you? Queered Florence with a half-smile. Joanne laughed. I'm really quite harmless, but while I was climbing up here, I noticed that the scaffold was held up in an upright position by Peggs driven into the wall, and that gave me an idea. Why can't I drive a peg into this wall, and fasten the rope to it, and then let myself down to the balcony? Doesn't that sound simple? Why, yes, it does, Peggy admitted slowly, but where will find the iron bar, and something heavy enough to drive it with? There ought to be a hammer around here somewhere, Florence put in quickly. Come on, and we'll see if we can find it in the iron bar. If we can't find an iron bar, call Joanne. Maybe I could use an old broom handle, if you'd make a point on one end of it. All right, they called as they disappeared into the room. Entering the kitchen, they found Juana huddled in the chair by the fireplace, asleep. Slipping by her, Florence took a small hammer out of a cupboard, and handed it to Peggy, saying in a low voice. Now, if we can find an iron bar, we'll be fixed. Peggy smiled and whispered, Why, Florence, this is only a little tack hammer. You couldn't drive anything into a stone wall with this, not in a thousand years. I'm sure that's the only one we have, Florence answered in a troubled voice. You see, since we can't use nails in this house, we seldom have any use for a hammer. Peggy began staring around. I'll look and see what I can find. Shhh, warn Florence, let's not wake Juana if we can help it. Together, they slipped quietly about the room, picking up first one object and then another, only to lay it down again in disgust. At the very moment that Peggy spied something that would do, Juana opened her eyes and asked in Spanish, What is it, Florenceita? Do you wish me to make the demerienda? Why, no, we don't care for anything to eat now, Florence replied slowly. But we would like to have something to drink. Please go down to the drugstore and get some limates. She turned to Peggy. I've ordered limates. I know Joe'd like to have a cold drink. The minute Juana disappeared through the door, Peggy stepped over to the middle section of the fireplace. Here's the very thing, she said. Picking up one of the stones Juana used to set her earthen griddle on when cooking on the fireplace. And look here, she added excitedly. Here's a piece of iron, the very thing we need. Now let's hurry, I know Joe's tired waiting. How silly of me not to think of these things, exclaimed Florence. Juana uses that piece of iron to poke her fire with. Let's hope she doesn't decide to make tortillas any time soon, or she'll miss the stone. Together they rushed out into the hall, then stopped on catching a glimpse of Felipe at his post, just outside the office door. What in the world is he doing back? Whispered Peggy, she stopped. Is Dr. Blackwell in his office? Do you suppose? Slipping into the dining room, they stared blankly at each other. How could they get the things to Joe Anne now? I know what we can do, exclaimed Florence, running to the china closet. Put the stone in this plate, she placed the plate on the table. Now, I'll spread the napkin over it, then it'll look as if you're carrying a plate of sandwiches out on the balcony. I'll hide the piece of iron under my dress, like this. Fine, approved Peggy, her lips curving into a wide smile. On entering the hall, Felipe appeared and exclaimed that the El Doctor had sent him back to take the young ladies for a drive, as he would not need the car for one or two hours. I'll ask the girls and let you know. Peggy replied in Spanish and added, Call me when Juana brings the limates. Peggy hastened onto the balcony and resting the plate on the rail, whistled twice, as Joe peeped down from above, she called up gaily, her eyes twinkling. Just see the plates of sandwiches I've brought you. Aren't you hungry? Well, yes, I could enjoy a sandwich. John replied, trying to cover her disappointment. But didn't you get any of the other things I asked for? This is all we could find, laughing mischievously. Peggy lifted the napkin. Oh, Peg, you big tease, Joe Anne exclaimed. I might have known you were up to some mischief. Didn't you bring the piece of iron or a broomstick? Here it is, called Florence, slipping the piece of iron out, and holding it up. That's the very thing. But why all the secrecy? Well, Felipe was at the door, so I thought we'd better use this camouflage. I see. I'll let my rope down now. But how in the world are you going to fasten the rock to it, Peggy? I don't know, Peggy replied thoughtfully. Even if I tie the rope around it a couple of times, it's likely to fall out, and a stone as large as this is heavy enough to kill anyone if it should hit him on the head. She gave a little sudden start. I know what to do. Spreading the napkin on the floor and placing the stone in the exact center, she picked up the opposite corners of the napkin and tied a tight square knot, then tied another one with the other corners. When she had slipped the rope under both securely, she heard Felipe coming in the office door. She sprang to her feet while Office ran into the office to keep him from coming onto the balcony. I'll take the limates, Felipe. She told him, taking the tray he was carrying. Instead of leaving immediately, he lingered a moment to ask how long it would be before they would be ready to go for a drive. For a few seconds, she hesitated, then replied, I think they'll be ready in about half an hour. Joanne had seemed so sure she could get that, but maybe. If they're not ready by that time, I'll let you know. As soon as he had left the office, Florence hastened back to the balcony. By that time, Joanne had successfully pulled the stone up to the roof and had lowered the rope for the iron bar. The moment she had the piece of iron in her hands, she hopped off the low wall and eagerly set to work. Kneeling on the flat surface of the roof, she held the iron bar firmly against the inside of the wall with her left hand and struck it a heavy blow with the stone. The next instant, the iron bar sprang back, knocking the stone out of her hand and striking her foot a glancing blow. Oh, my foot! She cried in muffled tones, hopping around the roof on the other foot. I can't stop for a little thing like this. She decided shortly, setting resolutely to work again. Less confident of her success, she struck the iron lightly and carefully this time, but without making the slightest impress in the wall. Driving a peg into a stone wall was not the simple thing she had imagined it to be. I know it can be done, and I'm going to do it, she told herself, determinedly. If I can only find the seam between the stones, I know I can drive it into the mortar. After slowly chipping the plaster away over a foot or more in diameter, she found an upright seam. Her arms ached from the unusual strain. Her hands and face were covered with grime and plaster dust, and perspiration trickled down her face, streaking it. Nevertheless, she worked on persistently, and at last found the cross seam. Eagerly placing the bar in position, she began driving it into the mortar between the stones. She struck it very carefully at first, then harder and harder. No wonder these houses last forever, she thought. I never saw anything so hard in my life. This one will stand here several centuries more and not show the least signs of wear. With the last effort, she struck the iron several more blows. Then, putting her whole weight on it to test its strength, she heaved a sigh of relief. It did not budge a particle. Fastening the rope securely, she threw the end over the wall. Everything was ready now. While waiting for Florence and Peggy to return with the implements, she had tied several knots in the rope, and made two loops near the upper end. And now, lying flat, she peered over the edge of the wall to see if the loops came in exactly the right place, just over the edge of the roof. Oh, Seth! Here I come! she called joyously to the girls waiting below. Oh, Joe! Do be careful! You might fall! urged Florence. So intent was Joann in getting over the edge of the roof that she paid no attention to Florence's warning. Climbing over a wall, two feet or more thick was quite a different proposition from getting over a buoyed fence. She could not back off, and the smooth plaster offered a poor finger-hold while she was catching the loops in the rope. Finally, sitting on the edge of the wall, she leaned forward and reached for the upper loop, grasping the loop firmly with one hand and pressing the fingers of her other hand against the plaster. She stretched her foot toward the other loop. But when within an inch or two of it, she suddenly slipped off the wall. She gasped in terror. Down she dropped. Her arm felt as if it surely would be pulled from its socket as the entire weight of her body jerked on it. Could she hang with one hand? What if the sudden jerk should pull the rope loose from the peg? Desperately, she clung to the loop. Then, regaining her balance, she wrapped her legs around the rope. Slowly, carefully, she slipped from knot to knot. Four strong young arms caught her before her feet touched the floor of the balcony. Oh, Joe! Joe! I thought you'd be killed! Sure! cried Florence, tear-streaming down her cheeks. I was so frightened. 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 peyons had stopped to watch this unusual performance, while others were running to see what was going on. After one hasty glance below, Joe had 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 store in a few minutes. Anyway, I'm glad I'm down here. Joe and drew a sigh of relief. I hope I never have to stay so long in such a hot place again. End of Section 6, Recording by Mariuscano