“O-h, Peg—don’t! My arm’s sore!” cried Jo Ann, holding the injured arm away from her.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Peggy sympathetically. “Your camouflage is so good I’d forgotten about your blisters. I’ll remember hereafter, and we’ll walk one on each side of you, so no one’ll bump into you and hurt you again.”
They crossed the street and joined the gay promenade around the Plaza.
While Peggy was enjoying looking at the crowds, Jo Ann kept glancing back across the street at the front of the building in which the Blackwells had their apartment. Since their entrance was on the side street she had never before had an opportunity to examine the front of the house closely. The lower floor, she saw, was occupied mostly by different kinds of stores.
Shortly after passing opposite the drugstore beneath Dr. Blackwell’s office, she noticed a broad-arched doorway about halfway down the block. As she gazed through this doorway and into the brightly lighted space beyond, she suddenly gave a little gasp of surprise.
“Isn’t that a patio I see through that big doorway across the street, Florence?” she asked.
“Yes; there’s a small patio there.”
“Then that explains it,” Jo Ann went on eagerly. “This afternoon while I was up on the roof I noticed a queer, oblong walled-in place right in the center of the building. I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time—I was so worried about getting off the roof, but I believe now that this wall must’ve been around the opening for that patio. I’m wondering if that patio wasn’t at one time a part of your house.”
Florence’s eyes opened in surprise. “What makes you think that?”
“Why, because there wasn’t a division wall between that oblong opening and your part of the house. If it were originally one big house with many rooms, that would explain the reason for the huge kitchen and the immense fireplace.”