“But come, let us go to the house. It is too hot to stand here in the sun. Besides, you must be thirsty.”
And snuggling her hands under Jack’s and his father’s nearest elbows, she started them marching toward the house.
“You have me puzzled, Rafaela,” declared Jack. “First you declare your father has disappeared and you say in that funny way of yours that you are desolated. Then you get a note from him. What’s the answer?”
Rafaela’s teasing laugh pealed out. “What you say, Jack? ‘What’s the answer?’ Is that some of your American slang? What does it mean?”
Mr. Hampton laughed. Rafaela was a continual delight to him.
“It means,” said Jack, solemnly, “that if you don’t clear up this mystery, I’ll appeal to Donna Ana.”
Rafaela made a grimace. “Oh, that duenna. She sleeps. Not even your airplane wakes her. But when I hear it, I run. ‘Senor Jack will go search for my father who is missing four days,’ I say to myself. As I run, up comes that Pedro with a note. He would stop me. But I am so anxious to ask you to, please, go at once and search for my father, that I take his note and run. He looked after me and scratch his head. I see him, yes sir.”
She looked up slyly, first at Jack, then at his father, and both laughed heartily.
“You’re a little minx, Rafaela,” said Mr. Hampton, pinching the shell-like ear nearest him.
“That makes it unanimous, Dad,” said Jack. “But go on, Rafaela. Now what does the note say?”