“You certainly are a whole team and the little dog under the wagon,” said Winnie.
Joanne looked sober. “If only I don’t fall down on the behavior part I shall come out on top, I hope, but it is so hard to keep from flying all to pieces on occasions. I do think, though, that I am learning a little self-control. I can’t always control my lachrymal glands but I don’t howl.”
“That is a lot gained,” returned Claudia encouragingly. “You’ll get there, Jo, never fear.”
“You are such a dear old chirker up,” responded Joanne gratefully. “Win administers bad tasting doses like castor oil or liver medicine, but you give me stimulating cordials. It’s all right, Win; I need the castor oil sometimes, and you are a corking good doctor when you hold my nose and pour it down my throat. I class you with Cousin Sue, who doesn’t spare me.”
“Oh, but Jo,” said Winnie in a distressed tone, “I don’t mean to be horrid. If I didn’t love you so much I wouldn’t call you down when I see you need it.”
“Just so; you are a friend in need, and I want you to know I value my friend, Miss Merryman, very, very highly.”
“There’s Pablo,” said Claudia as they approached the river farm. “Let’s tell him about Mariquita, such a pretty name it is.”
“It is the diminutive of Maria, or as we would say, of Mary,” Joanne told her, “just as Juana is the Spanish for Joanne.”
Here they came up to Pablo. He was sitting by the roadside, having tethered Chico near by. “I am thinking perhap you are fatigue,” he said, “so I come with the leetel ’orse.” Pablo, like Unc’ Aaron, could never get used to the idea that the girls, generally, would rather walk than ride at such times as these.
So to spare his feelings, Winnie, at Joanne’s urging, mounted the little pony, and galloped off, leaving the others to follow on foot, and to tell Pablo about the Carriles family.