“All right. You catch hold of one end of the strip and I the other, and we’ll show her exactly what you mean.”
After Florence had translated Jo Ann’s request and the two girls had demonstrated their meaning by gestures, the grandmother’s brown wrinkled face began to beam. She took the strip from them, saying, “Sí, sí. I understand. I finish this one for you. You have been so good—you give us back our Pepito.”
“Oh, but you need these bags for the charcoal right away,” put in Jo Ann, who had caught the meaning of the grandmother’s words. “Tell her I’m not in a hurry for the hammock. I can wait till after they sell the charcoal.”
After Florence had passed this remark on, the grandmother replied, “I make you one. When my son sell the charcoal, he will bring me more rope.”
After talking for a few minutes more Jo Ann remarked to Florence, “Ask the mother something more about Carlitos, now. If he isn’t their child, ask her where they got him and what nationality he is—he doesn’t understand English.”
Florence began to laugh. “Hold on! I can’t ask all of those questions at once. I’m a little dubious about asking any at all. They don’t seem to like to talk about him.”
“Yes, I know, but I’ve got to find out about him.”
“We-ell, I’ll see what I can find out, but I can’t promise you much.”
Florence walked back to the mother, who was cooking beans over the fire in the middle of the cave. After chatting with her awhile she tactfully brought up the subject of Carlitos. “How long has Carlitos lived with you?”
“Oh, for a long time. He is as one of our family.”