What Miss Martha did not quite like, however, was Dolores’ wistful but absolutely firm refusal to reveal where she lived or with whom she lived.
“I would to answer and thus please you,” she had sadly said, lifting bright, brave eyes to meet squarely those of her dignified questioner. “I would to make you the visit to Las Golondrinas and thus be made so happy. I cannot. It is forbidden.”
At the conclusion of the interview they had left her standing under the fronded green of the palmettos, hands crossed over her breast, dark eyes eloquent with longing. Before they parted from her, however, Patsy obtained her reluctant promise to come to them on the beach for a few minutes, at least, whenever she chanced to see the Wayfarers bathing there.
Two mornings afterward she had kept her word. With her she had brought the blue book, voicing eager praise of the “very sweet story” and her thanks for the “simpatica” letter. Though the Wayfarers had pressed her to stay, she remained with them but a few moments. During that time she had cast frequent timid glances toward the jungle as though in lively fear of something or someone known to herself alone.
Unable to withstand Patsy’s coaxing plea of: “Come again to-morrow morning and I’ll have another nice story book here for you,” she had paid them a brief call on the next day. Since that time she had not again appeared on the beach at their bathing hour, and the Wayfarers did considerable wondering as to what had become of her.
The past three days having, therefore, been particularly uneventful beyond the healthy pleasures of outdoors, the four girls now hailed Mr. Carroll’s proposal with acclamation.
“What is a Venetian fête?” inquired Bee. “It’s held on the water. I know that much. What do we have to do? Do we dress in fancy costumes?”
“Only the boats dress up in fancy costumes at Venetian fêtes, Bee,” informed Patsy, laughing. “We wear our best bib and tucker, of course, and sail around in a motor launch or some kind of boat that’s all decorated with Chinese lanterns, colored lights, etc. Am I right, Dad?”
“Right-o,” smiled Mr. Carroll. “As it happens, your fairy bark awaits you. I’ve engaged a power boat for the evening. Had a hard time getting hold of it, too. We’ll run the car down to the beach during the afternoon of Thursday. I’ll have the lanterns and festoonings aboard the launch and you girls can spend the time before dinner decorating it. How will that suit you?”
The loud babble of appreciation that arose caused Mr. Carroll playfully to put his hands over his ears.