Sitting on the side of the bed, clad in their gay pajamas and eating their breakfast from an exquisitely inlaid tea table, Peggy and Jo Ann felt very sophisticated indeed.
“This is the most delicious orange juice and the best toast I’ve ever tasted,” declared Jo Ann, a moment later.
“It’s the best breakfast I’ve ever eaten in my whole life,” added Peggy with her usual exaggeration.
Florence turned to the servant, who had just returned with a plate of hot toast, and repeated their remarks in Spanish.
From that moment Juana was their devoted slave, anticipating their every wish.
As soon as they had finished breakfast, Jo Ann and Peggy dressed for the street, Florence insisting, much to their disapproval, that they wear hats. “The sun is too hot here in the middle of the day to go out without something on your head,” she explained.
While Peggy was arranging her hair in neat auburn waves, Jo Ann, who had finished her hasty toilet, stepped to the door leading into the hall and stood taking in every visible detail of the strangely constructed building. The immense rooms, each opening onto the long central hall, seemed dark and gloomy, owing to the thick walls, the concrete floor, the heavy doors, and the iron-barred windows. Though the bright-colored rugs, the gay-flowered chintz, and a few well-chosen pictures added a cheerful homelike note, the general effect was one of austere simplicity.
Having noticed Jo Ann’s interest, Florence came up beside her and, slipping her arm around her waist, asked, “How do you like our house? It’s very old, you know.”
“I love old houses,” Jo Ann replied quickly. “This one is extremely interesting—so different from anything I’ve ever seen.” She hesitated, then added, “I’ve been thinking of studying architecture when I go to college.”
“Would you care to see the rest of the house? There are some rather unusual features about it.”