bud of shell-pink color edged with silver, and then held up three fingers of her left hand.

“She says they’re three centavos each,” explained Jo Ann.

“Tell her I’ll take a dozen.”

“Un dosena,” she repeated in Spanish.

“Is that all you do—just add an a to the English words—rose-a, dozen-a? I could do that,” laughed Peggy.

“Don’t ever think it’s that simple, but there are several Spanish words which are much like the same words in English,” Jo Ann explained, feeling quite proud of her superior knowledge.

As the woman had seldom sold more than three or four flowers at a time, she had great difficulty now in figuring the cost of a dozen. Finally Jo Ann offered her assistance, and after arguing for some little time, Peggy received her change and the roses, and they started on their way again.

“Gracious! I feel like a bride with all these flowers,” laughed Peggy. “Suppose you take half of them.”

“All right—that’s the very thing.” Jo Ann’s eyes sparkled. “If I can only find the rope now, I can carry the bundle under these flowers, and it won’t be noticed.”

A moment later Peggy called to Jo Ann to stop again. “Just look at these beautiful blankets! Feel how soft they are and see how beautifully the colors are blended.”

“Yes, they are lovely. I’ve heard that they’re all hand made by the natives—that the designs are handed down in the families for generations. But, Peg, we haven’t time to stop here now.”

“Just look at that blanket hanging over there! It looks like the rainbow, the way the colors are shaded into each other. Don’t you love it?”

On receiving no answer from Jo Ann, Peggy turned around just in time to see her disappear in the crowd. Quickly she began pushing her way to the spot where she had last seen her.

“I don’t relish the idea of getting lost in this crowd of people who can’t understand a single word I say,” she told herself, as she darted in and out among the slow, deliberate Mexicans.

After looking about in all directions, to her great relief she spied Jo Ann standing 

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