It occurred to Mary Lee that it was time to discover Jack's whereabouts and she ran out of doors to find her happily playing with Bessie under the trees and in no need of sisterly attention. Therefore she went indoors for her work-bag and established herself on the veranda where she could watch the children and at the same time could occupy herself with her drawn work. She sat, a neat, sedate little figure at which Jo Poker cast more than one glance as he passed by.
On his way back he paused. "You got back all right that day?" he said inquiringly.
"What day? Oh, yes, thank you. I have not forgotten what a nice time we had there in the woods." Then following out the train of thought which had been taking up her mind she said: "Did you ever know any people by the name of Mendez or Garcia?"
He did not answer for a moment but fixed his eyes upon her searchingly, then, evidently with an effort, "Yes, I did. They're not unusual names. Where did those you speak of hail from?"
"I don't know exactly; somewhere in Mexico. I knew you had a Mexican wife, and I thought maybe you could tell me something I want to find out."
"Well, I reckon I can't," said the man shortly. "It's been years since I saw any of them; before you were born." And without stopping to continue the conversation he walked away.
"Well," said Mary Lee, "he's not very polite, but maybe he thought I was inquisitive. I'll ask Mr. Sanders what he knows." This she did that same evening. "You knew our señorita when she was a little girl, didn't you?" she began.
"You mean Dolores Mendez, do you? The one who was here with you all?"
"Yes, but we call her Miss Garcia."
"To be sure; her aunt did adopt her, I remember. She was a quiet little kitten, pretty in a way, but she kept to herself. I used to see her around. Her mother was dead then, but her grandfather set great store by her."