“I’m sorry, Nan,” Bess lowered her voice, “but I just don’t seem to be able to control myself when that girl comes to mind. She’s caused us so much unhappiness that I can’t stand her.”
“I know,” Nan was genuinely sympathetic, “but don’t you worry, we probably won’t see her at all. Mexico, after all, is a pretty big place.”
“Yes, it has twenty-seven states, besides the Federal District and the Territory of Lower California.” Laura quoted the guidebook glibly.
“Doesn’t make any difference,” Bess said firmly. “If she’s anywhere in the country, there’s no escaping her. We’ll meet her.” She ended positively.
How truly Bess spoke, the crowd was soon to find out, but the circumstances and the far-reaching results must be left to other chapters.
CHAPTER XIII
NAN TURNS PHOTOGRAPHER
“Well, what’s on the program this morning?” Adair MacKenzie was in a genial mood the day after the telegram had informed the girls that Rhoda’s mother was going to recover.
He had had a good night’s sleep and a generous well-cooked breakfast in the fashionable hotel where he had chosen to take his brood. Though he had complained about the coffee in no uncertain terms, as is the custom of most Americans traveling in foreign countries, the rest of the food had seemed good and now he acted as though he was entirely at the disposal of his guests.