The Mystery in Arizona

old enough to understand that. Mr. Wilson’s many guests have paid him in advance. They naturally expect service. Most of them are asthma sufferers and stay out here for eight months of the year for that reason. Even in an emergency like this, none of them could be asked to do any household chores whatsoever.”
    “I’m not particularly worried about the asthmatics,” Mr. Wilson said. “Our resident R.N., Miss Girard, and her assistant, a practical nurse, can take care of them. And I did have the good fortune early this morning to hire a friend of Maria’s, a full-blooded Navaho girl who for some reason has left the Indian school here in her senior year. Her real name is something like Rose-who-blooms-in-the-winter, but Maria calls her Rosita. She’s as pretty as she is competent and is already very popular with the guests.”
    He shook his head. “She can’t begin to take the place of the Orlandos, of course. You don’t often find a wonderful family like that. They came to me last January, and after they showed me what they could do, I hired the whole clan then and there. And clan,” he added emphatically, “is the right word to use when describing them in the English language. They are a very close-knit family, proud of their ancient lineage. I gather that they can trace their family tree back to an Aztec noble.”
    “They sound like wonderful people,” Honey said. “I can’t understand why they left you in the lurch like this, Uncle Monty. Didn’t they give you any explanation?”
    He shook his head again. “All they said was ‘A family emergency, señor' as they departed. I simply don’t understand it. My own conscience is clear. I treated them all very well. Let them run the whole place without any interference whatsoever. They did a grand job and apparently loved it.”
    Still shaking his head, he added, “But it’s my problem, not yours, kids, so forget about it I only wish you could be here tomorrow night for the beautiful ceremony in the elementary school. It is strange that the Orlandos would want to miss La Posada. I think you know that it is based on ancient Mexican-Spanish tradition, which holds that Joseph and Mary spent nine days during their journey from Galilee to Bethlehem searching for a posada , which is the Spanish word for lodging. On the ninth night they found it, in the stable where the Christ child was born.
    “Here in Tucson La Posada is staged on only one night, but in Spain and Mexico it is celebrated for nine days. A procession, consisting usually of school children, travels by candlelight from door to door seeking admission. A boy and a girl representing Joseph and Mary may head the procession, and figures of Mary on a burro with Joseph walking beside her are carried on a decorated litter.
    “The children chant the ancient Spanish litany and are refused admittance until the ninth night, Christmas Eve. This is the end of the ritual, and, from that moment on, it becomes a gala festival—a joyous piñata. Do you boys and girls know what a piñata is?”
    “No,” they chorused.
    “Well,” he said, “it might be compared to the custom we Americans have of allowing each child to open one present on Christmas Eve. In the home where the procession is finally admitted on Christmas Eve, there will be suspended from the ceiling a beautifully decorated pottery jar which is filled with candies and little toys. Now the fiesta becomes a sort of blindman’s buff. Each child in turn is blindfolded and given a stick with which to whack the jar. When the piñata breaks, the kids scramble all over the floor to gather up the Christmas goodies as they descend from the ceiling.”
    “What fun!” Honey cried. “Sort of like the old nursery rhyme about Little Jack Homer. Do the Mexican and Spanish children receive their presents the next day as we do, Uncle Monty?”
    “Well, yes and no,” he told her. “Those who have become thoroughly Americanized celebrate Christmas the way we do. But, according to tradition, the day of gift-giving does not take place until January sixth, the day when the three Wise Men came to the manger. The night before, children fill their shoes with hay and then place them on the windowsills. The hay is for the camels, and the Wise Men show their gratitude by refilling the shoes with gifts”
    “Oh, how Bobby would love to hear about that custom!” Trixie said enthusiastically. “Every Christmas Eve he insists upon leaving cookies and milk under