Jo Ann walked over to the door and, after exchanging greetings with her, asked if she knew exactly when the men were coming after the pottery, ending, “Maybe they will sell me some more of your beautiful ollas when they come.”
The woman answered with the same gesture as had her daughter—a shrug of her shoulders and, “I do not know.”
“When do they usually come?” Jo Ann persisted.
“Last time they come about this hour. They stop at Pedro’s store first; then they come here.”
Jo Ann’s eyes brightened. At last she had secured a bit of information.
As it turned out, this was the only piece forthcoming. Question after question brought forth only the inevitable but expressive shrug of the shoulders.
Though she could see Jo Ann was discouraged, Peggy could not help smiling and asking teasingly, “Have you learned yet what this means?” She raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders in true Mexican style.
“Silly!” Jo Ann exploded. The next moment she grinned and replied, “It means anything and everything. I’m going to cultivate that gesture myself and use it when anyone tries to quiz me.”
When they reached the store, the mail had arrived and in it a letter from Florence.
Jo Ann tore open the envelope quickly, glanced over the short note, and handed it to Peggy, saying, “She’ll be here tomorrow afternoon—and so’ll we be here.” To herself she added that there might be two others who probably would not be very comfortable persons to have near.