“Then, why don’t you get started,” Alice teased.
“Come on, here. We are.” Walker pretended that he was angry and that Alice’s remark was just the last straw. He took her by the arm and with the others following after, they all left the dining room, walked through the lounge and then out into the morning sunshine.
The four hours flew by. They shopped in the busy Mexican markets, bartered with natives, dressed in brilliantly colored blankets and huge sombreros, bought serapes, beautiful Indian pottery, some opals that were sold by the dozen, handwoven baskets and a million and one little things that Walker declared would fill a trunk.
Nan took her camera along and snapped pictures of everyone, pretty Mexican señoritas selling flowers, little Mexican boys who were boot-blacks, proud of the American slang they had learned in the movies, and whole families complete with shawls, squatting over low fires making tortillas for whomsoever would buy.
She took pictures until in her enthusiasm she forgot herself entirely and asked Adair MacKenzie if he would please hold a little Mexican baby while she photographed it.
As soon as the question was out of her mouth, she realized that she had made a mistake.
What a torrent it brought forth! Adair MacKenzie blustered as he had never blustered before. He would see himself tied and hung before she would ever find him even touching one of those kids. Why, the idea. Did she think he was an embassador of good will, that he was down there to kiss babies and wear serapes to show that he was just one of the people. Did—d—did she think he was—why, what did she think he was? He stuttered in his surprise.
Finally, Nan and Walker and Alice and all the rest broke down in laughter, for Adair MacKenzie was certainly outdoing himself.
With this, he stopped in amazement. And they were laughing at him! “No respect any more at all,” he muttered and then he laughed too.
“You, Walker, you,” he took the remaining bit of his impatience out on that able young man, “you’ve no sense at all in that head of yours. Let the girls get out of hand all the time. Now, I’m going to take charge of the party. Had enough of your nonsense. Come on, you,” he turned to Nan and the rest with this, “there’ll be no more pictures today. We’re going back to the hotel now.”