In a short time they arrived at the house, puffing and panting from the exertion of their steep climb.
“Did you—think we—were never—coming?” asked Florence, dropping down beside her mother, who was lying on a cot out in front of the house; then, without waiting for an answer, she asked, “Have they brought the milk yet?”
Her mother nodded. “Just a few minutes ago. Did you and Jo Ann have a nice walk?”
“Yes, indeed! It seemed so good to be tramping over the mountains again.” Florence smiled. “I had to recount the family history from A to Z to the woman at the goat ranch, and she said it gave her much sorrow to learn of your illness. She and all the children’ll probably be up to see you tomorrow. Here’s a jasmine she sent you—we picked the fern down by a spring.” She sniffed the fragrant perfume a moment, then handed the dainty spray to her mother.
“And while we were at the spring,” put in Jo Ann, “we saw two little Mexican boys gathering wood; and I’m sure one of them had blue eyes.”
“Yes, Jo thinks she’s on the trail of another mystery,” laughed Florence.
“Oh dear,” sighed Peggy with a roguish twinkle in her eyes. “I told you we wouldn’t be here three days before she’d find a mystery, and here it’s hardly been that many hours.”
“Then, when we were at the cave,” Jo Ann went on, unruffled by Peggy’s teasing, “the boys came in, and I got a good look at that one’s eyes, and they were blue—a deep, deep blue—bluer than yours, Florence.”
“Well, what’s your solution?” grinned Peggy. “Has your blue-eyed boy been kidnaped, or is he a prince in disguise?”
“I’ll tell you later. Give me a little time, and I’ll find out. Florence and I are going down to the cave tomorrow to carry some food to those children—there were several thin, dirty, half-starved little ones there. Come along, Peg, and if that boy is there, you can see for yourself that his eyes are blue. I hope he is—I want to prove to you and Florence that I’m not color blind.”