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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/36400-h.zip b/36400-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b5568b --- /dev/null +++ b/36400-h.zip diff --git a/36400-h/36400-h.htm b/36400-h/36400-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7b78e08 --- /dev/null +++ b/36400-h/36400-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10417 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Corner House Girls Among the Gypsies, by Grace Brooks Hill</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} + p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color:silver;} + h1 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + h2 {text-align:left; font-weight:normal;} + h1 {font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + h1.pg {font-weight:bold; font-size:190%; margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:0em;} + h2 {font-size:1.2em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver; clear:both;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align:center;} + .larger {font-size:larger;} + .smaller {font-size:smaller;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + table.c {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps} + div.center>:first-child {margin: .5em auto 0 auto;text-align:center;} + div.center p {margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;} + hr.tb {border:none; border-bottom: 1px solid black; margin: 20px auto; width:35%} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Corner House Girls Among the Gypsies, by +Grace Brooks Hill, Illustrated by Thelma Gooch</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Corner House Girls Among the Gypsies</p> +<p> How They Met, What Happened, and How It Ended</p> +<p>Author: Grace Brooks Hill</p> +<p>Release Date: June 12, 2011 [eBook #36400]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AMONG THE GYPSIES***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="center">E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div><a name='fig1' id='fig1'></a></div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i001' id='i001'></a> +<img src="images/illus-fpc.jpg" alt="One young woman brought a great pan of stew and bread and three spoons to the van. Frontispiece." title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>One young woman brought a great pan of stew and bread<br/>and three spoons to the van. <em>Frontispiece.</em></span> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:1.4em;'>THE</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:1.4em;'>CORNER HOUSE GIRLS</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:1.4em;'>AMONG THE GYPSIES</span></p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> +</p> +<table class='c' summary=''><tr><td> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>HOW THEY MET</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>    WHAT HAPPENED</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>        AND HOW IT ENDED</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>BY</p> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>GRACE BROOKS HILL</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Author of “The Corner House Girls,” “The Corner House</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Girls on a Houseboat,” etc.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><em>ILLUSTRATED BY</em></p> +<p>THELMA GOOCH</p> +</div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i002' id='i002'></a> +<img src='images/illus-emb.png' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<div class='center'> +<p>BARSE & HOPKINS</p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>PUBLISHERS</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>NEWARK, N. J. NEW YORK, N. Y.</span></p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>BOOKS FOR GIRLS</p> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>The Corner House Girls Series</span></p> +<p>By Grace Brooks Hill</p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'><em>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.</em></span></p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary=''><tr><td> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AT SCHOOL</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS UNDER CANVAS</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS IN A PLAY</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS’ ODD FIND</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON A TOUR</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS GROWING UP</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS SNOWBOUND</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON A HOUSEBOAT</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AMONG THE GYPSIES</p> +</td></tr></table> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'><span class='sc'>Publishers</span></span></p> +<p>BARSE & HOPKINS</p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'><span class='sc'>Newark, N. J. New York, N. Y.</span></span></p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>Copyright, 1921,</p> +<p>by</p> +<p>Barse & Hopkins</p> +<p> </p> +<p><em>The Corner House Girls Among the Gypsies</em></p> +<p>Printed in U. S. A.</p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>CONTENTS</span></p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary=''> +<tr><td style='font-size:smaller'>CHAPTER</td><td></td><td style='font-size:smaller'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>I</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Fretted Silver Bracelet</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chI'>9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>II</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Profound Mystery</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chII'>20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>III</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Sammy Pinkney in Trouble</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIII'>31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Gypsy Trail</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIV'>40</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>V</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Sammy Occasions Much Excitement</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chV'>50</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Gypsy’s Words</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVI'>60</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Bracelet Again To the Fore</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVII'>70</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Misfortunes of a Runaway</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVIII'>81</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IX</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Things Go Wrong</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIX'>90</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>X</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>All Is Not Gold That Glitters</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chX'>100</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Mysteries Accumulate</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXI'>108</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Getting in Deeper</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXII'>114</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Over the Hills and Far Away</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIII'>122</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Almost Had Him</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIV'>134</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Uncertainties</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXV'>143</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Dead End of Nowhere</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVI'>149</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Ruth Begins To Worry</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVII'>157</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Junkman Again</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVIII'>165</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIX</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The House Is Haunted</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIX'>175</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XX</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Plotters at Work</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXX'>184</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Tess and Dot Take a Hand</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXI'>195</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Excitement Galore</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXII'>206</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Surprising Meeting</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIII'>217</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Captives</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIV'>234</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>It Must Be All Right</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXV'>244</a></td></tr> +</table> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</span></p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary=''> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:1em;'>One young woman brought a great pan of stew and bread and three spoons to the van</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#fig1'><i>Title</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:1em;'>“You have found it!” he chattered with great excitement</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#fig2'>112</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:1em;'>The girls could sit under the trees while Luke reclined on a swinging cot</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#fig3'>158</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:1em;'>“They want that silver thing back. It wasn’t meant for you”</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#fig4'>203</a></td></tr> +</table> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<h1><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span>THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AMONG THE GYPSIES</h1> +<h2><a name='chI' id='chI'></a>CHAPTER I—THE FRETTED SILVER BRACELET</h2> +<p> +If Sammy Pinkney had not been determined to +play a “joey” and hooked back one of the garage +doors so as to enter astride a broomstick with +a dash and the usual clown announcement, “Here +we are again!” all would not have happened that +did happen to the Corner House girls—at least, +not in just the way the events really occurred. +</p> +<p> +Even Dot, who was inclined to be forgiving of +most of Sammy’s sins both of omission and commission, +admitted that to be true. Tess, the next +oldest Corner House girl (nobody ever dignified +her with the name of “Theresa,” unless it were +Aunt Sarah Maltby) was inclined to reflect the +opinion regarding most boys held by their oldest +sister, Ruth. Tess’s frank statement to this day +is that it was entirely Sammy’s fault that they +were mixed up with the Gypsies at all. +</p> +<p> +But— +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well, if I’m going to be in your old circus,” +Sammy announced doggedly, “I’m going to be a +joey—or <em>nothin’</em>.” +</p> +<p> +“You know very well, Sammy, that you can’t +be that,” said Tess reprovingly. +</p> +<p> +“Huh? Why can’t I? I bet I’d make just as +good a clown as Mr. Sully Sorber, who is Neale’s +half-uncle, or Mr. Asa Scruggs, who is Barnabetta’s +father.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t mean you can’t be a clown,” interrupted +Tess. “I mean you can’t be just <em>nothing</em>. +You occupy space, so you must be something. Our +teacher says so.” +</p> +<p> +“Shucks!” ejaculated Sammy Pinkney. +“Don’t I know that? And I wish you wouldn’t +talk about school. Why! we’re only in the middle +of our vacation, I should hope.” +</p> +<p> +“It seems such a long time since we went to +school,” murmured Dot, who was sitting by, nursing +the Alice-doll in her arms and waiting her +turn to be called into the circus ring, which was +the cleared space in the middle of the cement floor. +</p> +<p> +“That’s because all you folks went off cruising +on that houseboat and never took me with you,” +grumbled Sammy, who still held a deep-seated +grouch because of the matter mentioned. “But +’tain’t been long since school closed—and it isn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span> +going to be long before the old thing opens +again.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, Sammy!” admonished Tess. +</p> +<p> +“I just <em>hate</em> school, so I do!” vigorously announced +the boy. “I’d rather be a tramp—or a +Gypsy. Yes, I would.” +</p> +<p> +“Or a pirate, Sammy?” suggested Dot reflectively. +“You know, me and you didn’t have a +very nice time when we went off to be pirates. +’Member?” +</p> +<p> +“Huh!” grumbled Sammy, “that was because +you was along. Girls can’t be pirates worth +shucks. And anyway,” he concluded, “I’m going +to be the joey in this show, or I won’t play.” +</p> +<p> +“It will be supper time and the others will be +back with the car, so none of us can play if we +don’t start in pretty soon,” Tess observed. “Dot +and I want to practice our gym work that Neale +O’Neil has been teaching us. But you can clown +it all you want to, Sammy.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, that lets me begin the show anyway,” +Sammy stated with satisfaction. +</p> +<p> +He always did want to lead. And now he immediately +ran to hook back the door and prepared +to make his entrance into the ring in true clowning +style, as he had seen Sully Sorber do in Twomley +& Sorber’s Herculean Circus and Menagerie. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span> +</p> +<p> +The Kenway garage opened upon Willow Street +and along that pleasantly shaded and quiet thoroughfare +just at this time came three rather odd +looking people. Two were women carrying +brightly stained baskets of divers shapes, and one +of these women—usually the younger one—went +into the yard of each house and knocked at the +side or back door, offering the baskets for sale. +</p> +<p> +The younger one was black-eyed and rather +pretty. She was neatly dressed in very bright +colors and wore a deal of gaudy jewelry. The +older woman was not so attractive—or so clean. +</p> +<p> +Loitering on the other side of the street, and +keeping some distance behind the Gypsy women, +slouched a tall, roughly clad fellow who was evidently +their escort. The women came to the Kenway +garage some time after Sammy Pinkney had +made his famous “entrance” and Dot had abandoned +the Alice-doll while she did several handsprings +on the mattress that Tess had laid down. +Dot did these very well indeed. Neale O’Neil, +who had been trained in the circus, had given +both the smaller Corner House girls the benefit +of his advice and training. They loved athletic +exercises. Mrs. McCall, the Corner House housekeeper, +declared Tess and Dot were as active as +grasshoppers. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span> +</p> +<p> +The two dark-faced women, as they peered in +at the open doorway of the garage, seemed to +think Dot’s handsprings were marvelously well +done, too; they whispered together excitedly and +then the older one slyly beckoned the big Gypsy +man across the street to approach. +</p> +<p> +When he arrived to look over the women’s +heads it was Tess who was actively engaged on +the garage floor. She was as supple as an eel. +Of course, Tess Kenway would not like to be compared +to an eel; but she was proud of her ability +to “wriggle into a bow knot and out again”—as +Sammy vociferously announced. +</p> +<p> +“Say, Tess! that’s a peach of a trick,” declared +the boy with enthusiasm. “Say! Lemme—Huh! +What do <em>you</em> want?” For suddenly he saw the +two Gypsy women at the door of the garage. The +man was now out of sight. +</p> +<p> +“Ah-h!” whined the old woman cunningly, +“will not the young master and the pretty little +ladies buy a nice basket of the poor Gypsy? Good +fortune goes with it.” +</p> +<p> +“Gee! who wants to buy a basket?” scoffed +Sammy. “You only have to carry things in it.” +The bane of Sammy Pinkney’s existence was the +running of errands. +</p> +<p> +“But they <em>are</em> pretty,” murmured Tess. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh—oo! See that nice green and yellow one +with the cover,” gasped Dot. “Do you suppose +we’ve got money enough to buy that one, Tess? +How nice it would be to carry the children’s +clothes in when we go on picnics.” +</p> +<p> +By “children” Dot meant their dolls, of which, +the two smaller Corner House girls possessed a +very large number. Several of these children, +besides the Alice-doll, were grouped upon a bench +in the corner of the garage as a part of the circus +audience. The remainder of the spectators were +Sandyface and her family. Sandyface was now a +great, <em>great</em> grandmother cat, and more of her +progeny than one would care to catalog tranquilly +viewed the little girls’ circus or rolled in kittenish +frolic on the floor. +</p> +<p> +It sometimes did seem as though the old Corner +House demesne was quite given up to feline inhabitants. +And the recurrent appearance of new +litters of kittens belonging to Sandyface herself, +her daughters and granddaughters, had ceased to +make even a ripple in the pool of Corner House +existence. +</p> +<p> +This explanation regarding the dolls and cats +is really aside from our narrative. Tess and Dot +both viewed with eager eyes the particular covered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span> +basket held out enticingly by the old Gypsy +woman. +</p> +<p> +Of course the little girls had no pockets in their +gymnasium suits. But in a pocket of her raincoat +which Tess had worn down to the garage over +her blouse and bloomers, she found a dime and +two pennies—“just enough for two ice-cream +cones,” Sammy Pinkey observed. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! And my Alice-doll has eight cents in her +cunning little beaded bag,” cried Dot, with sudden +animation. +</p> +<p> +She produced the coins. But there was only +twenty cents in all! +</p> +<p> +“I—I—What do you ask for that basket, +please?” Tess questioned cautiously. +</p> +<p> +“Won’t the pretty little ladies give the poor old +Gypsy woman half a dollar for the basket?” +</p> +<p> +The little girls lost hope. They were not allowed +to break into their banks for any purpose +without asking Ruth’s permission, and their +monthly stipend of pocket money was very low. +</p> +<p> +“It is a very nice basket, little ladies,” said +the younger Gypsy woman—she who was so gayly +dressed and gaudily bejeweled. +</p> +<p> +“I know,” Tess admitted wistfully. “But if +we haven’t so much money, how can we buy it?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +</p> +<p> +“Say!” interrupted the amateur joey, hands +in pockets and viewing the controversy quite as an +outsider. “Say, Tess! if you and Dot really want +that old basket, I’ve got two-bits I’ll lend you.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Sammy!” gasped Dot. “A whole quarter?” +</p> +<p> +“Have you got it here with you?” Tess asked. +</p> +<p> +“Yep,” announced the boy. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t think Ruth would mind our borrowing +twenty-five cents of you, Sammy,” said Tess, +slowly. +</p> +<p> +“Of course not,” urged Dot. “Why, Sammy is +just like one of the family.” +</p> +<p> +“Only when you girls go off cruising, I ain’t,” +observed Sammy, his face clouding with remembrance. +“<em>Then</em> I ain’t even a step-child.” +</p> +<p> +But he produced the quarter and offered it to +Tess. She counted it with the money already in +her hand. +</p> +<p> +“But—but that makes only forty-five cents,” +she said. +</p> +<p> +The two Gypsy women spoke hissingly to each +other in a tongue that the children did not, of +course, understand. Then the older woman thrust +the basket out again. +</p> +<p> +“Take!” she said. “Take for forty-fi’ cents, +eh? The little ladies can have.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span> +</p> +<p> +“Go ahead,” Sammy said as Tess hesitated. +“That’s all the old basket is worth. I can get one +bigger than that at the chain store for seven +cents.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Sammy, it isn’t as bee-<em>you</em>-tiful as this!” +gasped Dot. +</p> +<p> +“Well, it’s a basket just the same.” +</p> +<p> +Tess put the silver and pennies in the old woman’s +clawlike hand and the longed-for basket came +into her possession. +</p> +<p> +“It is a good-fortune basket, pretty little ladies,” +repeated the old Gypsy, grinning at them +toothlessly. “You are honest little ladies, I can +see. You would never cheat the old Gypsy, would +you? This is all the money you have to pay for +the beautiful basket? Forty-fi’ cents?” +</p> +<p> +“Aw, say!” grumbled Sammy, “a bargain is a +bargain, ain’t it? And forty-five cents is a good +deal of money.” +</p> +<p> +“If—if you think we ought to pay more—” +</p> +<p> +Tess held the basket out hesitatingly. Dot +fairly squealed: +</p> +<p> +“Don’t be a ninny, Tessie Kenway! It’s ours +now.” +</p> +<p> +“The basket is yours, little ladies,” croaked the +crone as the younger woman pulled sharply at her +shawl. “But good fortune goes with it only if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span> +you are honest with the poor old Gypsy. Good-bye.” +</p> +<p> +The two strange women hurried away. Sammy +lounged to the door, hands in pockets, to look +after them. He caught a momentary glimpse of +the tall Gypsy man disappearing around a corner. +The two women quickly followed him. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, what a lovely basket!” Dot was saying. +</p> +<p> +“I—I hope Ruth won’t scold because we borrowed +that quarter of Sammy,” murmured Tess. +</p> +<p> +“Shucks!” exclaimed their boy friend. “Don’t +tell her. You can pay me when you get some more +money.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no!” Tess said. “I would not hide anything +from Ruth.” +</p> +<p> +“You couldn’t, anyway,” said the practical +Dot. “She will want to know where we got the +money to pay for the basket. Oh, <em>do</em> open it, +Tess. Isn’t it lovely?” +</p> +<p> +The cover worked on a very ingeniously contrived +hinge. Had the children known much about +such things they must have seen that the basket +was worth much more than the price they had +paid for it—much more indeed than the price the +Gypsies had first asked. +</p> +<p> +Tess lifted the cover. Dot crowded nearer to +look in. The shadows of the little girls’ heads at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> +first hid the bottom of the basket. Then both saw +something gleaming dully there. Tess and Dot +cried out in unison; but it was the latter’s brown +hand that darted into the basket and brought +forth the bracelet. +</p> +<p> +“A silver bracelet!” Tess gasped. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, look at it!” cried Dot. “Did you <em>ever</em>? +Do you s’pose it’s real silver, Tess?” +</p> +<p> +“Of course it is,” replied her sister, taking the +circlet in her own hand. “How pretty! It’s all +engraved with fret-work—” +</p> +<p> +“Hey!” ejaculated Sammy coming closer. +“What’s that?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Sammy! A silver bracelet—all fretted, +too,” exclaimed the highly excited Dot. +</p> +<p> +“Huh! What’s that? ‘Fretted’? When my +mother’s fretted she’s—Say! how can a silver +bracelet be cross, I want to know?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Sammy,” Tess suddenly ejaculated, +“these Gypsy women will be cross enough when +they miss this bracelet!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! Oh!” wailed Dot. “Maybe they’ll come +back and want to take it and the pretty basket, +Tess. Let’s run and hide ’em!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span><a name='chII' id='chII'></a>CHAPTER II—A PROFOUND MYSTERY</h2> +<p> +Tess Kenway was positively shocked by her +sister Dot’s suggestion. To think of trying to +keep the silver bracelet which they knew must belong +to the Gypsy woman who had sold them the +green and yellow basket, was quite a horrifying +thought to Tess. +</p> +<p> +“How <em>can</em> you say such a thing, Dottie Kenway?” +she demanded sternly. “Of course we +cannot keep the bracelet. And that old Gypsy +lady said we were honest, too. She could <em>see</em> we +were. And, then, what would Ruthie say?” +</p> +<p> +Their older sister’s opinion was always the +standard for the other Corner House girls. And +that might well be, for Ruth Kenway had been +mentor and guide to her sisters ever since Dot, at +least, could remember. Their mother had died +so long ago that Tess but faintly remembered +her. +</p> +<p> +The Kenways had lived in a very moderately +priced tenement in Bloomsburg when Mr. Howbridge +(now their guardian) had searched for and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span> +found them, bringing them with Aunt Sarah +Maltby to the old Corner House in Milton. In +the first volume of this series, “The Corner House +Girls,” these matters are fully explained. +</p> +<p> +The six succeeding volumes relate in detail the +adventures of the four sisters and their friends—and +some most remarkable adventures have they +had at school, under canvas, at the seashore, as +important characters in a school play, solving the +mystery of a long-lost fortune, on an automobile +tour through the country, and playing a winning +part in the fortunes of Luke and Cecile Shepard +in the volume called “The Corner House Girls +Growing Up.” +</p> +<p> +In “The Corner House Girls Snowbound,” the +eighth book of the series, the Kenways and a number +of their young friends went into the North +Woods with their guardian to spend the Christmas +Holidays. Eventually they rescued the twin +Birdsall children, who likewise had come under +the care of the elderly lawyer who had so long +been the Kenway sisters’ good friend. +</p> +<p> +During the early weeks of the summer, just +previous to the opening of our present story, the +Corner House girls had enjoyed a delightful trip +on a houseboat in the neighboring waters. The +events of this trip are related in “The Corner +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +House Girls on a Houseboat.” During this outing +there was more than one exciting incident. But +the most exciting of all was the unexpected appearance +of Neale O’Neil’s father, long believed +lost in Alaska. +</p> +<p> +Mr. O’Neil’s return to the States could only be +for a brief period, for his mining interests called +him back to Nome. His son, however, no longer +mourned him as lost, and naturally (though this +desire he kept secret from Agnes) the boy hoped, +when his school days were over, to join his father +in that far Northland. +</p> +<p> +There was really no thought in the mind of the +littlest Corner House girl to take that which did +not belong to her. Most children believe implicitly +in “findings-keepings,” and it seemed to Dot +Kenway that as they had bought the green and +yellow basket in good faith of the two Gypsy +women, everything it contained should belong to +them. +</p> +<p> +This, too, was Sammy Pinkney’s idea of the +matter. Sammy considered himself very worldly +wise. +</p> +<p> +“Say! what’s the matter with you, Tess Kenway? +Of course that bracelet is yours—if you +want it. Who’s going to stop you from keeping it, +I want to know?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span> +</p> +<p> +“But—but it must belong to one of those Gypsy +ladies,” gasped Tess. “The old lady asked us if +we were honest. Of course we are!” +</p> +<p> +“Pshaw! If they miss it, they’ll be back after +that silver thing fast enough.” +</p> +<p> +“But, Sammy, suppose they don’t know the +bracelet fell into this basket?” +</p> +<p> +“Then you and Dot are that much in,” was the +prompt rejoinder of their boy friend. “You +bought the basket and all that was in it. They +couldn’t claim the <em>air</em> in that basket, could they? +Well, then! how could they lay claim to anything +else in the basket?” +</p> +<p> +Such logic seemed unanswerable to Dot’s mind. +But Tess shook a doubtful head. She had a feeling +that they ought to run after the Gypsies to +return to them at once the bracelet. Only, neither +she nor Dot was dressed properly to run through +Milton’s best residential streets after the Romany +people. As for Sammy— +</p> +<p> +Happily, so Tess thought, she did not have to +decide the matter. Musically an automobile horn +sounded its warning and the children ran out to +welcome the two older Corner House girls and +Neale O’Neil, who acted as their chauffeur on this +particular trip. +</p> +<p> +They had been far out into the country for eggs +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +and fresh vegetables, to the farm, in fact, of Mr. +Bob Buckham, the strawberry king and the Corner +House girls’ very good friend. In these times of +very high prices for food, Ruth Kenway considered +it her duty to save money if she could by purchasing +at first cost for the household’s needs. +</p> +<p> +“Otherwise,” this very capable young housewife +asked, “how shall we excuse the keeping of +an automobile when the up-keep and everything +is so high?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, <em>do</em>,” begged Agnes, the flyaway sister, +“<em>do</em> let us have something impractical, Ruth. I +just hate the man who wrote the first treatise on +political economy.” +</p> +<p> +“I fancy it is ‘household economy’ you mean, +Aggie,” returned her sister, smiling. “And I +warrant the author of the first treatise on that +theme was a woman.” +</p> +<p> +“Mrs. Eva Adam, I bet!” chuckled Neale +O’Neil, hearing this controversy from the driver’s +seat. “It has always been in my mind that the +First Lady of the Garden of Eden was tempted to +swipe those apples more because the price of other +fruit was so high than for any other reason.” +</p> +<p> +“Then Adam was stingy with the household +money,” declared Agnes. +</p> +<p> +“I really wish you would not use such words as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span> +‘swipe’ before the children, Neale,” sighed Ruth +who, although she was no purist, did not wish the +little folk to pick up (as they so easily did) slang +phrases. +</p> +<p> +She stepped out of the car when Neale had +halted it within the garage and Agnes handed her +the egg basket. Tess and Dot immediately began +dancing about their elder sister, both shouting at +once, the smallest girl with the green and yellow +basket and Tess with the silver bracelet in her +hand. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Ruthie, what do you think?” +</p> +<p> +“See how pretty it is! And they never missed +it.” +</p> +<p> +“<em>Can’t</em> we keep it, Ruthie?” This from Dot. +“We paid those Gypsy ladies for the basket and +all that was in it. Sammy says so.” +</p> +<p> +“Then it must be true of course,” scoffed Agnes. +“What is it?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I guess I know some things,” observed +Sammy, bridling. “If you buy a walnut you buy +the kernel as well as the shell, don’t you? And +that bracelet was inside that covered basket, like +the kernel in a nut.” +</p> +<p> +“Listen!” exclaimed Neale likewise getting out +of the car. “Sammy’s a very Solomon for judgment.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +</p> +<p> +“Now don’t you call me that, Neale O’Neil!” +ejaculated Sammy angrily. “I ain’t a pig.” +</p> +<p> +“Wha—what! Who called you a pig, Sammy?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, that’s what Mr. Con Murphy calls <em>his</em> +pig—‘Solomon.’ You needn’t call me by any pig-name, +so there!” +</p> +<p> +“I stand reproved,” rejoined Neale with mock +seriousness. “But, see here: What’s all this +about the basket and the bracelet—a two-fold +mystery?” +</p> +<p> +“It sounds like a thriller in six reels,” cried +Agnes, jumping out of the car herself to get a +closer view of the bracelet and the basket. “My! +Where did you get that gorgeous bracelet, children?” +</p> +<p> +The beauty of the family, who loved “gew-gaws” +of all kinds, seized the silver circlet and +tried it upon her own plump arm. Ruth urged +Tess to explain and had to place a gentle palm +upon Dot’s lips to keep them quiet so that she +might get the straight of the story from the more +sedate Tess. +</p> +<p> +“And so, that’s how it was,” concluded Tess. +“We bought the basket after borrowing Sammy’s +twenty-five cent piece, and of course the basket +belongs to us, doesn’t it, Ruthie?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> +</p> +<p> +“Most certainly, my dear,” agreed the elder +sister. +</p> +<p> +“And inside was that beautiful fretted silver +bracelet. And that—” +</p> +<p> +“Just as certainly belongs to the Gypsies,” finished +Ruth. “At least, it does not belong to you +and Dot.” +</p> +<p> +“Aw shu-u-cks!” drawled Sammy in dissent. +</p> +<p> +Even Agnes cast a wistful glance at the older +girl. Ruth was always so uncompromising in her +decisions. There was never any middle ground +in her view. Either a thing was right, or it was +wrong, and that was all there was to it! +</p> +<p> +“Well,” sighed Tess, “that Gypsy lady <em>said</em> she +knew we were honest.” +</p> +<p> +“I think,” Ruth observed thoughtfully, “that +Neale had better run the car out again and look +about town for those Gypsy women. They can’t +have got far away.” +</p> +<p> +“Say, Ruth! it’s most supper time,” objected +Neale. “Have a heart!” +</p> +<p> +“Anyway, I wouldn’t trouble myself about a +crowd of Gypsies,” said Agnes. “They may have +stolen the bracelet.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” gasped Tess and Dot in unison. +</p> +<p> +“You know what June Wildwood told us about +them. And she lived with Gypsies for months.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span> +</p> +<p> +“Gypsies are not all alike,” the elder sister said +confidently in answer to this last remark by Agnes. +“Remember Mira and King David Stanley, +and how nice they were to Tess and Dottie?” she +asked, speaking of an incident related in “The +Corner House Girls on a Tour.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t care!” exclaimed Agnes, pouting, and +still viewing the bracelet on her arm with admiration. +“I wouldn’t run <em>my</em> legs off chasing a band +of Gypsies.” +</p> +<p> +They were all, however, bound to be influenced +by Ruth’s decision. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’ll hunt around after supper,” Neale +said. “I’ll take Sammy with me. You’ll know +those women if you see them again, won’t you, +kid?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” agreed Sammy, forgiving Neale for +calling him “kid” with the prospect of an automobile +ride in the offing. +</p> +<p> +“But—but,” breathed Tess in Ruth’s ear, “if +those Gypsy ladies don’t take back the bracelet, +it belongs to Dot and me, doesn’t it, Sister?” +</p> +<p> +“Of course. Agnes! do give it back, now. I +expect it will cause trouble enough if those women +are not found. A bone of contention! Both these +children will want to wear the bracelet at the same +time. Don’t <em>you</em> add to the difficulty, Agnes.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> +</p> +<p> +“Why,” drawled Agnes, slowly removing the +curiously engraved silver ornament from her arm, +“of course they will return for it. Or Neale will +find them.” +</p> +<p> +This statement, however, was not borne out by +the facts. Neale and Sammy drove all about town +that evening without seeing the Gypsy women. +The next day the smaller Corner House girls were +taken into the suburbs all around Milton; but nowhere +did they find trace of the Gypsies or of any +encampment of those strange, nomadic people in +the vicinity. +</p> +<p> +The finding of the bracelet in the basket remained +a mystery that the Corner House girls +could not soon forget. +</p> +<p> +“It does seem,” said Tess, “as though those +Gypsy ladies couldn’t have meant to give us the +bracelet, Dot. The old one said so much about +our being honest. She didn’t expect us to <em>steal</em> +it.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no!” agreed Dot. “But Neale O’Neil says +maybe the Gypsy ladies stole it, and were afraid +to keep it. So they gave it to us.” +</p> +<p> +“M-mm,” considered Tess. “But that doesn’t +explain it at all. Even if they wanted to get rid +of the bracelet, they need not have given it to us +in such a lovely basket. Ruth says the basket is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> +worth a whole lot more than the forty-five cents +we paid for it.” +</p> +<p> +“It <em>is</em> awful pretty,” sighed Dot in agreement. +</p> +<p> +“Some day they will surely come back for the +bracelet.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I hope not!” murmured the littlest Corner +House girl. “It makes such a be-<em>you</em>-tiful belt +for my Alice-doll, when it’s my turn to wear it.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span><a name='chIII' id='chIII'></a>CHAPTER III—SAMMY PINKNEY IN TROUBLE</h2> +<p> +Uncle Rufus, who was general factotum about +the old Corner House and even acted as butler on +“date and state occasions,” was a very brown +man with a shiny bald crown around three-quarters +of the circumference of which was a hedge of +white wool. Aided by Neale O’Neil (who still insisted +on earning a part of his own support in +spite of the fact that Mr. Jim O’Neil, his father, +expected in time to be an Alaskan millionaire +gold-miner), Uncle Rufus did all of the chores +about the place. And those chores were multitudinous. +</p> +<p> +Besides the lawns and the flower gardens to +care for, there was a good-sized vegetable garden +to weed and to hoe. Uncle Rufus suffered from +what he called a “misery” in his back that made +it difficult for him to stoop to weed the small +plants in the garden. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know, Missy Ruth,” complained the old +darkey to the eldest Corner House girl, “how I’s +goin’ to get that bed of winter beets weeded—I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span> +dunno, noways. My misery suah won’t let me +stoop down to them rows, and there’s a big patch +of ’em.” +</p> +<p> +“Do they need weeding right now, Uncle +Rufus?” +</p> +<p> +“Suah do, Missy. Dey is sufferin’ fo’ hit. I’d +send wo’d for some o’ mah daughter Pechunia’s +young ‘uns to come over yere, but I knows dat all +o’ them that’s big enough to work is reg’larly +employed by de farmers out dat a-way. Picking +crops for de canneries is now at de top-notch, +Missy; and even Burnejones Whistler and Louise-Annette +is big enough to pick beans.” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness me!” exclaimed Agnes, who overheard +the old man’s complaint. “There ought to +be kids enough around these corners to hire, without +sending to foreign lands for any. They are +always under foot if you <em>don’t</em> want them.” +</p> +<p> +“Ain’t it de truf?” chuckled the old man. +“Usual’ I can’t look over de hedge without +spyin’ dat Sammy Pinkney and a dozen of his +crew. They’s jest as plenty as bugs under a chip. +But now—” +</p> +<p> +“Well, why not get Sammy?” interrupted +Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“He ought to be of some use, that is sure,” +added Agnes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span> +</p> +<p> +“Can yo’ put yo’ hand on dat boy?” demanded +Uncle Rufus. “‘Nless he’s in mischief I don’t +know where to look for him.” +</p> +<p> +“I can find him all right,” Agnes declared. +“But I cannot guarantee that he will take the +job.” +</p> +<p> +“Offer him fifty cents to weed those beet rows,” +Ruth said briskly. “The bed I see is just a mat of +weeds.” They had walked down to the garden +while the discussion was going on. “If Sammy +will do it I’ll be glad to pay the half dollar.” +</p> +<p> +She bustled away about some other domestic +matter; for despite the fact that Mrs. McCall bore +the greater burden of housekeeping affairs, Ruth +Kenway did not shirk certain responsibilities that +fell to her lot both outside and inside the Corner +House. +</p> +<p> +After all was said and done, Sammy Pinkney +looked upon Agnes as his friend. She was more +lenient with him than even Dot was. Ruth and +Tess looked upon most boys as merely “necessary +evils.” But Agnes had always liked to play with +boys and was willing to overlook their shortcomings. +</p> +<p> +“I got a lot to do,” ventured Sammy, shying as +usual at the idea of work. “But if you really +want me to, Aggie—” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span> +</p> +<p> +“And if you want to make a whole half dollar,” +suggested Agnes, not much impressed by the idea +that Sammy would weed beets as a favor. +</p> +<p> +“All right,” agreed the boy, and shooing Buster, +his bulldog, out of the Corner House premises, +for Buster and Billy Bumps, the goat, were sworn +enemies, Sammy proceeded to the vegetable +garden. +</p> +<p> +Now, both Uncle Rufus and Agnes particularly +showed Sammy which were the infant beets and +which the weeds. It is a fact, however, that there +are few garden plants grown for human consumption +that do not have their counterpart among the +noxious weeds. +</p> +<p> +The young beets, growing in scattered clumps in +the row (for each seed-burr contains a number of +seeds), looked much like a certain weed of the +lambs’-quarters variety; and this reddish-green +weed pretty well covered the beet bed. +</p> +<p> +Tess and Dot had gone to a girls’ party at Mrs. +Adams’, just along on Willow Street, that afternoon, +so they did not appear to disturb Sammy +at his task. In fact, the boy had it all his own way. +Neither Uncle Rufus nor any other older person +came near him, and he certainly made a thorough +job of that beet bed. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. McCall “set great store,” as she said, by +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span> +beets—both pickled and fresh—for winter consumption. +When Neale O’Neil chanced to go into +the garden toward supper time to see what +Sammy was doing there, it was too late to save +much of the crop. +</p> +<p> +“Well, of all the dunces!” ejaculated Neale, +almost immediately seeing what Sammy had been +about. “Say! you didn’t do that on purpose, did +you? Or don’t you know any better?” +</p> +<p> +“Know any better’n <em>what</em>?” demanded the +bone-weary Sammy, in no mood to endure scolding +in any case. “Ain’t I done it all right? I bet +you can’t find a weed in that whole bed, so now.” +</p> +<p> +“Great grief, kid!” gasped the older boy, seeing +that Sammy was quite in earnest, “I don’t believe +you’ve left anything <em>but</em> weeds in those rows. +It—it’s a knock-out!” +</p> +<p> +“Aw—I never,” gulped Sammy. “I guess I +know beets.” +</p> +<p> +“Huh! It looks as though you don’t even know +<em>beans</em>,” chortled Neale, unable to keep his gravity. +“What a mess! Mrs. McCall will be as sore +as she can be.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t care!” cried the tired boy wildly. “I +saved just what Aggie told me to, and threw away +everything else. And see how the rows are.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, Sammy, those aren’t where the rows of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> +beets were at all. See! <em>These</em> are beets. <em>Those</em> +are weeds. Oh, great grief!” and the older boy +went off into another gale of laughter. +</p> +<p> +“I—I do-o-on’t care,” wailed Sammy. “I did +just what Aggie told me to. And I want my half +dollar.” +</p> +<p> +“You want to be paid for wasting all Mrs. McCall’s +beets?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t care, I earned it.” +</p> +<p> +Neale could not deny the statement. As far as +the work went, Sammy certainly had spent time +and labor on the unfortunate task. +</p> +<p> +“Wait a minute,” said Neale, as Sammy started +away in anger. “Maybe all those beet plants you +pulled up aren’t wilted. We can save some of +them. Beets grow very well when they are transplanted—especially +if the ground is wet enough +and the sun isn’t too hot. It looks like rain for +to-night, anyway.” +</p> +<p> +“Aw—I—” +</p> +<p> +“Come on! We’ll get some water and stick out +what we can save. I’ll help you and the girls +needn’t know you were such a dummy.” +</p> +<p> +“Dummy, yourself!” snarled the tired and +over-wrought boy. “I’ll never weed another beet +again—no, I won’t!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span> +</p> +<p> +Sammy made a bee-line out of the garden and +over the fence into Willow Street, leaving Neale +fairly shaking with laughter, yet fully realizing +how dreadfully cut-up Sammy must feel. +</p> +<p> +The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune +seem much greater to the mind of a youngster like +Sammy Pinkney than to an adult person. The +ridicule which he knew he must suffer because of +his mistake about the beet bed, seemed something +that he really could not bear. Besides, he had +worked all the afternoon for nothing (as he presumed) +and only the satisfaction of having earned +fifty cents would have counteracted the ache in +his muscles. +</p> +<p> +Harried by his disappointment, Sammy was met +by his mother in a stern mood, her first question +being: +</p> +<p> +“Where have you been wasting your time ever +since dinner, Sammy Pinkney? I never did see +such a lazy boy!” +</p> +<p> +It was true that he had wasted his time. But +his sore muscles cried out against the charge that +he was lazy. +</p> +<p> +He could not explain, however, without revealing +his shame. To be ridiculed was the greatest +punishment Sammy Pinkney knew. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span> +</p> +<p> +“Aw, what do you want me to do, Maw? Work +<em>all</em> the time? Ain’t this my vacation?” +</p> +<p> +“But your father says you are to work enough +in the summer to keep from forgetting what work +is. And look how grubby you are. Faugh!” +</p> +<p> +“What do you want me to do, Maw?” +</p> +<p> +“You might do a little weeding in our garden, +you know, Sammy.” +</p> +<p> +“Weeding!” groaned the boy, fairly horrified +by the suggestion after what he had been through +that afternoon. +</p> +<p> +“You know very well that our onions and carrots +need cleaning out. And I don’t believe you +could even find our beets.” +</p> +<p> +“Beets!” Sammy’s voice rose to a shriek. He +never was really a bad boy; but this was too much. +“Beets!” cried Sammy again. “I wouldn’t +weed a beet if nobody ever ate another of ’em. +No, I wouldn’t.” +</p> +<p> +He darted by his mother into the house and ran +up to his room. Her reiterated command that he +return and explain his disgraceful speech and violent +conduct did not recall Sammy to the lower +floor. +</p> +<p> +“Very well, young man. Don’t you come down +to supper, either. And we’ll see what your father +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span> +has to say about your conduct when he comes +home.” +</p> +<p> +This threat boded ill for Sammy, lying sobbing +and sore upon his bed. He was too desperate to +care much what his father did to him. But to +face the ridicule of the neighborhood—above all +to face the prospect of weeding another bed of +beets!—was more than the boy could contemplate. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll run away and be a pirate—that’s just +what I’ll do,” choked Sammy, his old obsession +enveloping his harassed thoughts. “I’ll show +’em! They’ll be sorry they treated me so—all of +’em.” +</p> +<p> +Just who “’em” were was rather vague in +Sammy Pinkney’s mind. But the determination +to get away from all these older people, whom he +considered had abused him, was not vague at all. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span><a name='chIV' id='chIV'></a>CHAPTER IV—THE GYPSY TRAIL</h2> +<p> +Mr. Pinkney, Sammy’s father, heard all about +it before he arrived home, for he always passed +the side door of the old Corner House on his return +from business. He came at just that time +when Neale O’Neil was telling the assembled family—including +Mrs. McCall, Uncle Rufus, and +Linda the maid-of-all-work—about the utter +wreck of the beet bed. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve saved what I could—set ’em out, you +know, and soaked ’em well,” said the laughing +Neale. “But make up your mind, Mrs. McCall, +that you’ll have to buy a good share of your beets +this winter.” +</p> +<p> +“Well! What do you know about that, Mr. +Pinkney?” demanded Agnes of their neighbor, +who had halted at the gate. +</p> +<p> +“Just like that boy,” responded Mr. Pinkney, +shaking his head over his son’s transgressions. +</p> +<p> +“Just the same,” Neale added, chuckling, +“Sammy says you showed him which were weeds +and which were beets, Aggie.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course I did,” flung back the quick-tempered Agnes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> +“And so did Uncle Rufus. But +that boy is so heedless—” +</p> +<p> +“I agree that Sammy pays very little attention +to what is told him,” said Sammy’s father. +</p> +<p> +Here Tess put in a soothing word, as usual: +“Of course he didn’t mean to pull up all your +beets, Mrs. McCall.” +</p> +<p> +“And I don’t like beets anyway,” proclaimed +Dot. +</p> +<p> +“He certainly must have worked hard,” Ruth +said, producing a fifty-cent piece and running +down the steps to press it into Mr. Pinkney’s +palm. “I am sure Sammy had no intention of +spoiling our beet bed. And I am not sure that it +is not partly our fault. He should not have been +left all the afternoon without some supervision.” +</p> +<p> +“He should be more observing,” said Mr. +Pinkney. “I never did see such a rattlebrain.” +</p> +<p> +“‘The servant is worthy of his hire,’” quoted +Ruth. “And tell him, Mr. Pinkney, that we forgive +him.” +</p> +<p> +“Just the same,” cried Agnes after their neighbor, +“although Sammy may know beans, as Neale +says, he doesn’t seem to know beets! Oh, what +a boy!” +</p> +<p> +So Mr. Pinkney brought home the story of +Sammy’s mistake and he and his wife laughed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +over it. But when Mrs. Pinkney called upstairs +for the boy to come down to a late supper she got +only a muffled response that he “didn’t want no +supper.” +</p> +<p> +“He must be sick,” she observed to her husband, +somewhat anxiously. +</p> +<p> +“He’s sick of the mess he’s made—that’s all,” +declared Mr. Pinkney cheerfully. “Let him +alone. He’ll come around all right in the +morning.” +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile at the Corner House the Kenway +sisters had something more important (at least, +as they thought) to talk about than Sammy Pinkney +and his errors of judgment. What Dot had +begun to call the “fretful silver bracelet” was a +very live topic. +</p> +<p> +The local jeweler had pronounced the bracelet +of considerable value because of its workmanship. +It did not seem possible that the Gypsy women +could have dropped the bracelet into the basket +they had sold the smaller Corner House girls and +then forgotten all about it. +</p> +<p> +“It is not reasonable,” Ruth Kenway declared +firmly, “that it could just be a mistake. That basket +is worth two dollars at least; and they sold +it to the children for forty-five cents. It is mysterious.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span> +</p> +<p> +“They seemed to like Tess and me a whole lot,” +Dot said complacently. “That is why they gave it +to us so cheap.” +</p> +<p> +“And that is the very reason I am worried,” +Ruth added. +</p> +<p> +“Why don’t you report it to the police?” +croaked Aunt Sarah Maltby. “Maybe they’ll try +to rob the house.” +</p> +<p> +“O-oh,” gasped Dot, round-eyed. +</p> +<p> +“Who? The police?” giggled Agnes in Ruth’s +ear. +</p> +<p> +“Maybe we ought to look again for those Gypsy +ladies,” Tess said. “But the bracelet is awful +pretty.” +</p> +<p> +“I tell you! Let’s ask June Wildwood. She +knows all about Gypsies,” cried Agnes. “She +used to travel with them. Don’t you remember, +Ruth? They called her Queen Zaliska, and she +made believe tell fortunes. Of course, not being +a real Gypsy she could not tell them very well.” +</p> +<p> +“Crickey!” ejaculated Neale O’Neil, who was +present. “You don’t believe in that stuff, do you, +Aggie?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know whether I do or not. But it’s +awfully thrilling to think of learning ahead what +is going to happen.” +</p> +<p> +“Huh!” snorted her boy friend. “Like the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span> +weather man, eh? But he has some scientific data +to go on.” +</p> +<p> +“Probably the Gypsy fortune tellers have reduced +their business to a science, too,” Ruth +calmly said. +</p> +<p> +“Anyhow,” laughed Neale, “Queen Zaliska +now works in Byburg’s candy store. Some queen, +I’ll tell the world!” +</p> +<p> +“Neale!” admonished Ruth. “<em>Such</em> slang!” +</p> +<p> +“Come on, Neale,” said the excited Agnes. +“Let you and me go down to Byburg’s and ask +her about the bracelet.” +</p> +<p> +“I really don’t see how June can tell us anything,” +observed Ruth slowly. +</p> +<p> +“Anyway,” Agnes briskly said, putting on her +hat, “we need some candy. Come on, Neale.” +</p> +<p> +The Wildwoods were Southerners who had not +lived long in Milton. Their story is told in “The +Corner House Girls Under Canvas.” The Kenways +were very well acquainted with Juniper +Wildwood and her sister, Rosa. Agnes felt privileged +to question June about her life with the +Gypsies. +</p> +<p> +“I saw Big Jim in town the other day,” confessed +the girl behind the candy counter the moment +Agnes broached the subject. “I am awfully +afraid of him. I ran all the way home. And I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> +told Mr. Budd, the policeman on this beat, and I +think Mr. Budd warned Big Jim to get out of +town. There is some talk about getting a law +through the Legislature putting a heavy tax on +each Gypsy family that does not keep moving. +<em>That</em> will drive them away from Milton quicker +than anything else. And that Big Jim is a bad, +bad man. Why! he’s been in jail for stealing.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my! He’s a regular convict, then,” +gasped Agnes, much impressed. +</p> +<p> +“Pshaw!” said Neale. “They don’t call a man +a convict unless he has been sent to the State +prison, or to the Federal penitentiary. But that +Big Jim looked to be tough enough, when we saw +him down at Pleasant Cove, to belong in prison +for life. Remember him, Aggie?” +</p> +<p> +“The children did not say anything about a +Gypsy man,” observed his friend. “There were +two Gypsy women.” +</p> +<p> +She went on to tell June Wildwood all about +the basket purchase and the finding of the silver +bracelet. The older girl shook her head solemnly +as she said: +</p> +<p> +“I don’t understand it at all. Gypsies are always +shrewd bargainers. They never sell things +for less than they cost.” +</p> +<p> +“But they made that basket,” Agnes urged. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> +“Perhaps it didn’t cost them so much as Ruth +thinks.” +</p> +<p> +June smiled in a superior way. “Oh, no, they +didn’t make it. They don’t waste their time nowadays +making baskets when they can buy them +from the factories so much cheaper and better. +Oh, no!” +</p> +<p> +“Crackey!” exclaimed Neale. “Then they are +fakers, are they?” +</p> +<p> +“That bracelet is no fake,” declared Agnes. +</p> +<p> +“That is what puzzles me most,” said June. +“Gypsies are very tricky. At least, all I ever +knew. And if those two women you speak of belonged +to Big Jim’s tribe, I would not trust them +at all.” +</p> +<p> +“But it seems they have done nothing at all bad +in this case,” Agnes observed. +</p> +<p> +“Tess and Dot are sure ahead of the game, so +far,” chuckled Neale in agreement. +</p> +<p> +“Just the same,” said June Wildwood, “I +would not be careless. Don’t let the children talk +to the Gypsies if they come back for the bracelet. +Be sure to have some older person see the women +and find out what they want. Oh, they are very +sly.” +</p> +<p> +June had then to attend to other customers, and +Agnes and Neale walked home. On the way they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> +decided that there was no use in scaring the little +ones about the Gypsies. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t believe in bugaboos,” Agnes declared. +“We’ll just tell Ruth.” +</p> +<p> +This she proceeded to do. But perhaps she did +not repeat June Wildwood’s warning against the +Gypsy band with sufficient emphasis to impress +Ruth’s mind. Or just about this time the older +Corner House girl had something of much graver +import to trouble her thought. +</p> +<p> +By special delivery, on this evening just before +they retired, arrived an almost incoherent letter +from Cecile Shepard, part of which Ruth read +aloud to Agnes: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“... and just as Aunt Lorina is only beginning +to get better! I feel as though this family +is fated to have trouble this year. Luke was doing +so well at the hotel and the proprietor liked him. +It isn’t <em>his</em> fault that that outside stairway was +untrustworthy and fell with him. The doctor says +it is only a strained back and a broken wrist. But +Luke is in bed. I am going by to-morrow’s train +to see for myself. I don’t dare tell Aunt Lorina—nor +even Neighbor. Neighbor—Mr. Northrup—is +not well himself, and he would only worry +about Luke if he knew.... Now, don’t <em>you</em> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +worry, and I will send you word how Luke is just +the minute I arrive.” +</p> +<p> +“But how can I help being anxious?” Ruth demanded +of her sister. “Poor Luke! And he was +working so hard this summer so as not to be +obliged to depend entirely on Neighbor for his +college expenses next year.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth was deeply interested in Luke Shepard—had +been, in fact, since the winter previous when +all the Corner House family were snowbound at +the Birdsall winter camp in the North Woods. Of +course, Ruth and Luke were both very young, and +Luke had first to finish his college course and get +into business. +</p> +<p> +Still and all, the fact that Luke Shepard had +been hurt quite dwarfed the Gypsy bracelet matter +in Ruth’s mind. And in that of Agnes, too, +of course. +</p> +<p> +In addition, the very next morning Mrs. Pinkney +ran across the street and in at the side door of +the Corner House in a state of panic. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! have you seen him?” she cried. +</p> +<p> +“Seen whom, Mrs. Pinkney?” asked Ruth with +sympathy. +</p> +<p> +“Is Buster lost again?” demanded Tess, poising +a spoonful of breakfast food carefully while +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> +she allowed her curiosity to take precedence over +the business of eating. “That dog always <em>is</em> getting +lost.” +</p> +<p> +“It isn’t Sammy’s dog,” wailed Mrs. Pinkney. +“It is Sammy himself. I can’t find him.” +</p> +<p> +“Can’t find Sammy?” repeated Agnes. +</p> +<p> +“His bed hasn’t been slept in! I thought he +was just sulky last night. But he is <em>gone</em>!” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said Tess, practically, “Sammy is always +running away, you know.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, this is serious,” cried the distracted +mother. “He has broken open his bank and taken +all his money—almost four dollars.” +</p> +<p> +“My!” murmured Dot, “it must cost lots more +to run away and be pirates now than it used to.” +</p> +<p> +“Everything is much higher,” agreed Tess. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span><a name='chV' id='chV'></a>CHAPTER V—SAMMY OCCASIONS MUCH EXCITEMENT</h2> +<p> +“I do hope and pray,” Aunt Sarah Maltby declared, +“that Mrs. Pinkney won’t go quite distracted +about that boy. Boys make so much trouble +usually that a body would near about believe +that it must be an occasion for giving thanks to +get rid of one like Sammy Pinkney.” +</p> +<p> +This was said of course after Sammy’s mother +had gone home in tears—and Agnes had accompanied +her to give such comfort as she might. The +whole neighborhood was roused about the missing +Sammy. All agreed that the boy never was of +so much importance as when he was missing. +</p> +<p> +“I do hope and pray that the little rascal will +turn up soon,” continued Aunt Sarah, “for Mrs. +Pinkney’s sake.” +</p> +<p> +“I wonder,” murmured Dot to Tess, “why it is +Aunt Sarah always says she ‘hopes and prays’? +Wouldn’t just praying be enough? You’re sure to +get what you pray for, aren’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“But what is the use of praying if you don’t +hope?” demanded Tess, the hair-splitting theologian. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span> +“They must go together, Dot. I should +think you’d see that.” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Pinkney had lost hope of finding Sammy, +however, right at the start. She knew him of +course of old. He had been running away ever +since he could toddle out of the gate; but she and +Mr. Pinkney tried to convince themselves that +each time would be the last—that he was “cured.” +</p> +<p> +For almost always Sammy’s runaway escapades +ended disastrously for him and covered +him with ridicule. Particularly ignominious was +the result of his recent attempt, which is narrated +in the volume immediately preceding this, to accompany +the Corner House Girls on their canal-boat +cruise, when he appeared as a stowaway +aboard the boat in the company of Billy Bumps, +the goat. +</p> +<p> +“And he hasn’t even taken Buster with him this +time,” proclaimed Mrs. Pinkney. “He chained +Buster down cellar and the dog began to howl. So +mournful! It got on my nerves. I went down +after Mr. Pinkney went to business early this +morning and let Buster out. Then, because of +the dog’s actions, I began to suspect Sammy had +gone. I called him. No answer. And he hadn’t +had any supper last night either.” +</p> +<p> +“I am awfully sorry, Mrs. Pinkney,” Agnes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> +said. “It was too bad about the beets. But he +needn’t have run away because of <em>that</em>. Ruth sent +him his fifty cents, you know.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s just it!” exclaimed the distracted +woman. “His father did not give Sammy the +half dollar. As long as the boy was so sulky last +evening, and refused to come down to eat, Mr. +Pinkney said let him wait for that money till he +came down this morning. <em>He</em> thought Ruth was +too good. Sammy is always doing something.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, he’s not so bad,” said the comforting +Agnes. “I am sure there are lots worse boys. +And are you sure, Mrs. Pinkney, that he has really +run away this time?” +</p> +<p> +“Buster can’t find him. The poor dog has been +running around and snuffing for an hour. I’ve +telephoned to his father.” +</p> +<p> +“Who—<em>what</em>? Buster’s father?” +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Pinkney,” explained Sammy’s mother. +“I suppose he’ll tell the police. He says—Mr. +Pinkney does—that the police must think it is a +‘standing order’ on their books to find Sammy.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my!” giggled Agnes, who was sure to appreciate +the comical side of the most serious situation. +“I should think the policemen would be so +used to looking for Sammy that they would pick +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> +him up anywhere they chanced to see him with the +idea that he was running away.” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” sighed Mrs. Pinkney, “Buster can’t +find him. There he lies panting over by the currant +bushes. The poor dog has run his legs off.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t believe bulldogs are very keen on a +scent. Our old Tom Jonah could do better. But +of course Sammy went right out into the street +and the scent would be difficult for the best dog +to follow. Do you think Sammy went early this +morning?” +</p> +<p> +“That dog began to howl soon after we went to +bed. Mr. Pinkney sleeps so soundly that it did +not annoy him. But I <em>knew</em> something was wrong +when Buster howled so. +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps I’m superstitious. But we had an +old dog that howled like that years ago when my +grandmother died. She was ninety-six and had +been bedridden for ten years, and the doctors said +of course that she was likely to die almost any +time. But that old Towser <em>did</em> howl the night +grandma was taken.” +</p> +<p> +“So you think,” Agnes asked, without commenting +upon Mrs. Pinkney’s possible trend +toward superstition, “that Sammy has been gone +practically all night?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span> +</p> +<p> +“I fear so. He must have waited for his father +and me to go to bed. Then he slipped down the +back stairs, tied Buster, and went out by the cellar +door. All night long he’s been wandering somewhere. +The poor, foolish boy!” +</p> +<p> +She took Agnes up to the boy’s room—a museum +of all kinds of “useless truck,” as his mother +said, but dear to the boyish heart. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, he’s gone sure enough,” she said, pointing +to the bank which was supposed to be incapable +of being opened until five dollars in dimes +had been deposited within it. A screw-driver, +however, had satisfied the burglarious intent of +Sammy. +</p> +<p> +She pointed out the fact, too, that a certain extension +bag that had figured before in her son’s +runaway escapades was missing. +</p> +<p> +“The silly boy has taken his bathing suit and +that cowboy play-suit his father bought him. I +never did approve of that. Such things only give +boys crazy notions about catching dogs and little +girls with a rope, or shooting stray cats with a +popgun. +</p> +<p> +“Of course, he has taken his gun with him and +a bag of shot that he had to shoot in it. The gun +shoots with a spring, you know. It doesn’t use +real powder, of course. I have always believed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span> +such things are dangerous. But, you know, his +father— +</p> +<p> +“Well, he wore his best shoes, and they will +hurt him dreadfully, I am sure, if he walks far. +And I can’t find that new cap I bought him only +last week.” +</p> +<p> +All the time she was searching in Sammy’s +closet and in the bureau drawers. She stood up +suddenly and began to peer at the conglomeration +of articles on the top of the bureau. +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” she cried. “It’s gone!” +</p> +<p> +“What is it, Mrs. Pinkney?” asked Agnes sympathetically, +seeing that the woman’s eyes were +overflowing again. “What is it you miss?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! he is determined I am sure to run away +for good this time,” sobbed Mrs. Pinkney. “The +poor, foolish boy! I wish I had said nothing to +him about the beets—I do. I wonder if both his +father and I have not been too harsh with him. +And I’m sure he loves us. Just think of his taking +<em>that</em>.” +</p> +<p> +“But what is it?” cried Agnes again. +</p> +<p> +“It stood right here on his bureau propped up +against the glass. Sammy must have thought a +great deal of it,” flowed on the verbal torrent. +“Who would have thought of that boy being so +sentimental about it?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span> +</p> +<p> +“Mrs. Pinkney!” begged the curious Agnes, +almost distracted herself now, “<em>do</em> tell me what +it is that is missing?” +</p> +<p> +“That picture. We had it taken—his father +and Sammy and me in a group together—the last +time we went to Pleasure Cove. Sammy begged to +keep it up here. And—now—the dear child—has—has +carried—it—away with him!” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Pinkney broke down utterly at this point. +She was finally convinced that at last Sammy had +fulfilled his oft-repeated threat to “run away for +good and all”—whether to be a pirate or not, +being a mooted question. +</p> +<p> +Agnes comforted her as well as she could. But +the poor woman felt that she had not taken her +son seriously enough, and that she could have +averted this present disaster in some way. +</p> +<p> +“She is quite distracted,” Agnes said, on arriving +home, repeating Aunt Sarah’s phrase. +“Quite distracted.” +</p> +<p> +“But if she is extracted,” Dot proposed, “why +doesn’t she have Dr. Forsyth come to see her?” +</p> +<p> +“Mercy, Dot!” admonished Tess. “<em>Dis</em>tracted, +not <em>ex</em>tracted. You do so mispronounce the commonest +words.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t, either,” the smaller girl denied vigorously. +“I don’t mispernounce any more than you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span> +do, Tess Kenway! You just make believe you +know so much.” +</p> +<p> +“Dot! Mis<em>per</em>nounce! There you go again!” +</p> +<p> +This was a sore subject, and Ruth attempted to +change the trend of the little girls’ thoughts by +suggesting that Mrs. McCall needed some groceries +from a certain store situated away across +town. +</p> +<p> +“If you can get Uncle Rufus to harness Scalawag +you girls can drive over to Penny & Marchant’s +for those things. And you can stop at Mr. +Howbridge’s house with this note. He must be +told about poor Luke’s injury.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, Ruthie?” asked little Miss Inquisitive, +otherwise Dot Kenway. “Mr. Howbridge isn’t +Luke Shepard’s guardian, too, is he?” +</p> +<p> +“Now, don’t be a chatterbox!” exclaimed the +elder sister, who was somewhat harassed on this +morning and did not care to explain to the little +folk just what she had in her mind. +</p> +<p> +Ruth was not satisfied to know that Cecile had +gone to attend her brother. The oldest Kenway +girl longed to go herself to the resort in the mountains +where Luke Shepard lay ill. But she did +not wish to do this without first seeking their +guardian’s permission. +</p> +<p> +Tess and Dot ran off in delight, forgetting their +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> +small bickerings, to find Uncle Rufus. The old +colored man, as long as he could get about, would +do anything for “his chillun,” as he called the +four Kenway sisters. It needed no coaxing on the +part of Tess and Dot to get their will of the old +man on this occasion. +</p> +<p> +Scalawag was fat and lazy enough in any case. +In the spring Neale had plowed and harrowed the +garden with him and on occasion he was harnessed +to a light cart for work about the place. His +main duty, however, was to draw the smaller girls +about the quieter streets of Milton in a basket +phaeton. To this vehicle he was now harnessed +by Uncle Rufus. +</p> +<p> +“You want to be mought’ car’ful ‘bout them +automobiles, chillun,” the old man admonished +them. “Dat Sammy Pinkney boy was suah some +good once in a while. He was a purt’ car’ful +driber.” +</p> +<p> +“But he’s a good driver <em>now</em>—wherever he is,” +said Dot. “You talk as though Sammy would +never get back home from being a pirate. Of +course he will. He always does!” +</p> +<p> +Secretly Tess felt herself to be quite as able to +drive the pony as ever Sammy Pinkney was. She +was glad to show her prowess. +</p> +<p> +Scalawag shook his head, danced playfully on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span> +the old stable floor, and then proceeded to wheel +the basket phaeton out of the barn and into Willow +Street. By a quieter thoroughfare than Main +Street, Tess Kenway headed him for the other +side of town. +</p> +<p> +“Maybe we’ll run across Sammy,” suggested +Dot, sitting sedately with her ever-present Alice-doll. +“Then we can tell his mother where he is +being a pirate. She won’t be so extracted then.” +</p> +<p> +Tess overlooked this mispronunciation, knowing +it was useless to object, and turned the subject +by saying: +</p> +<p> +“Or maybe we’ll see those Gypsies.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I hope not!” cried the smaller girl. “I +hope we’ll never see those Gypsy women again.” +</p> +<p> +For just at this time the Alice-doll was wearing +the fretted silver bracelet for a girdle. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span><a name='chVI' id='chVI'></a>CHAPTER VI—THE GYPSY’S WORDS</h2> +<p> +That very forenoon after the two smallest girls +had set out on their drive with Scalawag a telegram +came to the old Corner House for Ruth. +</p> +<p> +As Agnes said, a telegram was “an event in +their young sweet lives.” And this one did seem +of great importance to Ruth. It was from Cecile +Shepard and read: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“Arrived Oakhurst. They will not let me see Luke.” +</p> +<p> +Aside from the natural shock that the telegram +itself furnished, Cecile’s declaration that she was +not allowed to see her brother was bound to make +Ruth Kenway fear the worst. +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” she cried, “he must be very badly hurt +indeed. It is much worse than Cecile thought +when she wrote. Oh, Agnes! what shall I do?” +</p> +<p> +“Telegraph her for particulars,” suggested +Agnes, quite practically. “A broken wrist can’t +be such an awful thing, Ruthie.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span> +</p> +<p> +“But his back! Suppose he has seriously hurt +his back?” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness me! That would be awful, of +course. He might grow a hump like poor Fred +Littleburg. But I don’t believe that anything like +that has happened to Luke, Ruthie.” +</p> +<p> +Her sister was not to be easily comforted. +“Think! There must be something very serious +the matter or they would not keep his own sister +from seeing him.” Ruth herself had had no word +from Luke since the accident. +</p> +<p> +Neither of the sisters knew that Cecile Shepard +had never had occasion to send a telegram before +and had never received one in all her life. +</p> +<p> +But she learned that a message of ten words +could be sent for thirty-two cents to Milton, so she +had divided what she wished to say in two equal +parts! The second half of her message, however, +because of the mistake of the filing clerk at the +telegraph office in Oakhurst, did not arrive at the +Corner House for several hours after the first half +of the message. +</p> +<p> +Ruth Kenway meanwhile grew almost frantic +as she considered the possible misfortune that +might have overtaken Luke Shepard. She grew +quite as “extracted”—to quote Dot—as Mrs. +Pinkney was about the absence of Sammy. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well,” Agnes finally declared, “if I felt as +you do about it I would not wait to hear from Mr. +Howbridge. I’d start right now. Here’s the time +table. I’ve looked up the trains. There is one +at ten minutes to one—twelve-fifty. I’ll call +Neale and he’ll drive you down to the station. You +might have gone with the children if that telegram +had come earlier.” +</p> +<p> +Agnes was not only practical, she was helpful +on this occasion. She packed Ruth’s bag—and +managed to get into it a more sensible variety of +articles than Sammy Pinkey had carried in his! +</p> +<p> +“Now, don’t be worried about <em>us</em>,” said Agnes, +when Ruth, dressed for departure, began to speak +with anxiety about domestic affairs, including the +continued absence of the little girls. “Haven’t +we got Mrs. McCall—and Linda? You <em>do</em> take +your duties so seriously, Ruth Kenway.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you think so?” rejoined Ruth, smiling +rather wanly at the flyaway sister. “If anything +should happen while I am gone—” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing will happen that wouldn’t happen +anyway, whether you are at home or not,” declared +the positive Agnes. +</p> +<p> +Ruth made ready to go in such a hurry that +nobody else in the Corner House save Agnes herself +realized that the older sister was going until +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span> +the moment that Neale O’Neil drove around to the +front gate with the car. Then Ruth ran into Aunt +Sarah’s room to kiss her good-bye. But Aunt +Sarah had always lived a life apart from the general +existence of the Corner House family and +paid little attention to what her nieces did save +to criticise. Mrs. McCall was busy this day preserving—“up +tae ma eyen in wark, ma lassie”—and +Ruth kissed her, called good-bye to Linda, and +ran to the front door before any of the three +actually realized what was afoot. +</p> +<p> +Agnes ran with her to the street. At the gate +stood a dark-faced, brilliantly dressed young +woman, with huge gold rings in her ears, several +other pieces of jewelry worn in sight, and a flashing +smile as she halted the Kenway sisters with +outstretched hand. +</p> +<p> +“Will the young ladies let me read their +palms?” she said suavely. “I can tell them the +good fortune.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Agnes, pushing by +the Gypsy. “We can’t stop to have our fortunes +told now.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth kept right on to the car. +</p> +<p> +“Do not neglect the opportunity of having the +good fortune told, young ladies,” said the Gypsy +girl shrewdly. “I can see that trouble is feared. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span> +The dark young lady goes on a journey because +of the threat of <em>ill</em> fortune. Perhaps it is not so +bad as it seems.” +</p> +<p> +Agnes was really impressed. Left to herself +she actually would have heeded the Gypsy’s +words. But Ruth hurried into the car, Neale +reached back and slammed the tonneau door, and +they were off for the station with only a few minutes +to catch the twelve-fifty train. +</p> +<p> +“There!” ejaculated Agnes, standing at the +curb to wave her hand and look after the car. +</p> +<p> +“The blonde young lady does not believe the +Gypsy can tell her something that will happen—and +in the near future?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” exclaimed Agnes. “I don’t know.” And +she dragged her gaze from the car and looked +doubtfully upon the dark face of the Gypsy girl +which was now serious. +</p> +<p> +The latter said: “Something has sent the dark +young lady from home in much haste and +anxiety?” +</p> +<p> +The question was answered of course before it +was asked. Any observant person could have +seen as much. But Agnes’s interest was attracted +and she nodded. +</p> +<p> +“Had your sister,” the Gypsy girl said, guessing +easily enough at the relationship of the two +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> +Corner House girls, “not been in such haste, she +could have learned something that will change the +aspect of the threatened trouble. More news is +on the way.” +</p> +<p> +Agnes was quite startled by this statement. +Without explaining further the Gypsy girl glided +away, disappearing into Willow Street. +</p> +<p> +Agnes failed to see, as the Gypsy quite evidently +did, the leisurely approach of the telegraph +messenger boy with the yellow envelope in his +hand and his eyes fixed upon the old Corner +House. +</p> +<p> +Agnes ran within quickly. She was more than +a little impressed by the Gypsy girl’s words, and +a few minutes later when the front doorbell rang +and she took in the second telegram addressed to +Ruth, she was pretty well converted to fortune +telling as an exact science. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +Sammy Pinkney had marched out of the house +late at night, as his mother suspected, lugging +his heavy extension-bag, with a more vague idea +of his immediate destination than was even usual +when he set forth on such escapades. +</p> +<p> +To “run away” seemed to Sammy the only +thing for a boy to do when home life and restrictions +became in his opinion unbearable. It might +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span> +be questioned by stern disciplinarians if Mr. and +Mrs. Pinkney had properly punished Sammy +after he had run away the first few times, the boy +would not have been cured of his wanderlust. +</p> +<p> +Fortunately, although Sammy’s father was +stern enough, he very well knew that this desire +for wandering could not be beaten out of the boy. +Merely if he were beaten, when he grew big +enough to fend for himself in the world, he would +leave home and never return rather than face corporal +punishment. +</p> +<p> +“I was just such a kid when I was his age,” +admitted Mr. Pinkney. “My father licked me for +running away, so finally I ran away when I was +fourteen, and stayed away. Sammy has less +reason for leaving home than I had, and he’ll get +over his foolishness, get a better education than +I obtained, and be a better man, I hope, in the +end. It’s in the Pinkney blood to rove.” +</p> +<p> +This, of course, while perhaps being satisfactory +to a man, did not at all calm Sammy’s +mother. She expected the very worst to happen to +her son every time he disappeared; and as has +been shown on this occasion, the boy’s absence +stirred the community to its very dregs. +</p> +<p> +Had Mrs. Pinkney known that after tramping +as far as the outskirts of the town, and almost +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> +dropping from exhaustion, Sammy had gone to +bed on a pile of straw in an empty cow stable, she +would have been even more troubled than she was. +</p> +<p> +Sammy, however, came to no harm. He slept +so soundly in fact on the rude couch that it was +mid-forenoon before he awoke—stiff, sore in +muscles, clamorously hungry, and in a frame of +mind to go immediately home and beg for breakfast. +</p> +<p> +He had more money tied up in his handkerchief, +however, than he had ever possessed before when +he had run away. There was a store in sight at +the roadside not far ahead. He hid his bag in the +bushes and bought crackers, ham, cheese, and a +big bottle of sarsaparilla, and so made a hearty if +not judicious breakfast and lunch. +</p> +<p> +At least, this picnic meal cured the slight attack +of homesickness which he suffered. He was no +longer for turning back. The whole world was +before him and he strode away into it—lugging +that extension-bag. +</p> +<p> +While his troubled mother was showing Agnes +Kenway the unmistakable traces of his departure +for parts unknown, Sammy was trudging along +pretty contentedly, the bag awkwardly knocking +against his knees, and his sharp eyes alive to +everything that went on along the road. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +</p> +<p> +Sammy had little love for natural history or +botany, or anything like that. He suffered preparatory +lessons in those branches of enforced +knowledge during the school year. +</p> +<p> +He did not care a bit to know the difference +between a gray squirrel and a striped chipmunk. +They both chattered at him saucily, and he stopped +to try a shot at each of them with his gun. +</p> +<p> +To Sammy’s mind they were legitimate game. +He visualized himself building a fire in a fence +corner, skinning and cleaning his game and roasting +it over the flames for supper. But the squirrel +and the chipmunk visualized quite a different outcome +to the adventure and they refused to be shot +by the amateur sportsman. +</p> +<p> +Sammy struck into a road that led across the +canal by a curved bridge and right out into a part +of the country with which he was not at all familiar. +The houses were few and far between, and +most of them were set well back from the road. +</p> +<p> +Sometimes dogs barked at him, but he was not +afraid of watch dogs. He did not venture into +the yards or up the private lanes. He had bought +enough crackers and cheese to make another meal +when he should want it. And there were sweet +springs beside the road, or in the pastures where +the cattle grazed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> +</p> +<p> +Few vehicles passed him in either direction. It +was the time of the late hay harvest and everybody +was at work in the fields—and usually when +he saw the haymakers at all, they were far from +the road. +</p> +<p> +He met no pedestrians at all. Being quite off +the line of the railroad, there were no tramps on +this road, and of course there was nothing else to +harm the boy. His mother, in her anxiety, peopled +the world with those that would do Sammy +harm. In truth, he was never safer in his life! +</p> +<p> +But adventure? Why, the world was full of it, +and Sammy Pinkney expected to meet any number +of exciting incidents as he went on. +</p> +<p> +“Sammy,” Dot Kenway once said, “has just +a <em>wunnerful</em> ’magination. Why! if he sees our +old Sandyface creeping through the grass after a +poor little field mouse, Sammy can think she’s a +whole herd of tigers. His ’magination is just +wunnerful!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span><a name='chVII' id='chVII'></a>CHAPTER VII—THE BRACELET AGAIN TO THE FORE</h2> +<p> +While Sammy’s sturdy, if short, legs were +leaving home and Milton steadily behind him, Dot +and Tess were driving Scalawag, the calico pony, +to Penny & Marchant’s store, and later to Mr. +Howbridge’s house to deliver the note Ruth had +entrusted to them. +</p> +<p> +Their guardian had always been fond of the +Kenway sisters—since he had been appointed +their guardian by the court, of course—and Tess +and Dot could not merely call at Mr. Howbridge’s +door and drive right away again. +</p> +<p> +Besides, there were Ralph and Rowena Birdsall. +The Birdsall twins had of late likewise come +under Mr. Howbridge’s care, and circumstances +were such that it was best for their guardian to +take the twins into his own home. +</p> +<p> +Having two extremely active and rather willful +children in his household had most certainly disturbed +Mr. Howbridge out of the rut of his old +existence. And Ralph and Rowena quite “turned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> +the ‘ouse hupside down,” to quote Hedden, Mr. +Howbridge’s butler. +</p> +<p> +The moment the twins spied Tess and Dot in +the pony phaeton they tore down the stairs from +their quarters at the top of the Howbridge house, +and flew out of the door to greet the little Corner +House girls. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Tessie and Dot!” cried Rowena, who +looked exactly like her brother, only her hair was +now grown long again and she no longer wore +boy’s garments, as she had when the Kenways +first knew her. “How nice to see you!” +</p> +<p> +“Where’s Sammy?” Ralph demanded. “Why +didn’t he come along, too?” +</p> +<p> +“We’re glad to see you, Rowena and Rafe,” +Tess said sedately. +</p> +<p> +But Dot replied eagerly to the boy twin: +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Rafe! what do you think? Sammy’s run +away again.” +</p> +<p> +“Get out!” +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to,” said Dot, considering Ralph’s +ejaculation of amazement an invitation to alight, +and she forthwith jumped down from the step of +the phaeton. +</p> +<p> +“You can’t mean that Sammy has run off?” +cried Ralph. “Listen to this, Rowdy.” +</p> +<p> +“What a silly boy!” criticised his sister. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know,” chuckled Ralph Birdsall. +“’Member how you and I ran away that time, +Rowdy?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh—well,” said his sister. “We had reason +for doing so. But you know Sammy Pinkney’s +got a father and a mother—And for pity’s sake, +Rafe, stop calling me Rowdy.” +</p> +<p> +“And he’s got a real nice bulldog, too,” added +Dot, reflectively considering any possibility why +Sammy should run away. “I can’t understand +why he does it. He only has to come back home +again. I did it once, and I never mean to run +away from home again.” +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile Tess left Ralph to hitch Scalawag +while she marched up the stone steps of the +Howbridge house to deliver Ruth’s note into Hedden’s +hand, who took it at once to Mr. Howbridge. +</p> +<p> +Dot interested the twins almost immediately in +another topic. Rowena naturally was first to spy +the silver girdle around the Alice-doll’s waist. +</p> +<p> +“What a splendid belt!” cried Rowena Birdsall. +“Is it real silver, Dot?” +</p> +<p> +“It—it’s fretful silver,” replied the littlest +Corner House girl. “Isn’t it pretty?” +</p> +<p> +“Why,” declared Ralph after an examination, +“it’s an old, old bracelet.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, it is old, I s’pose,” admitted Dot. “But +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span> +my Alice-doll doesn’t know that. <em>She</em> thinks it is +a brand new belt. But of course she can’t wear it +every day, for half the time the bracelet belongs +to Tess.” +</p> +<p> +This statement naturally aroused the twins’ +curiosity, and when Tess ran back to join them in +the front yard the story of the Gypsy basket and +the finding of the bracelet lost nothing of detail +by being narrated by both of the Corner House +girls. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my!” cried Rowena. “Maybe those +Gypsies are just waiting to grab you. Gypsies +steal children sometimes. Don’t they, Rafe?” +</p> +<p> +“Course they do,” agreed her twin. +</p> +<p> +Dot looked rather frightened at this suggestion, +but Tess scorned the possibility. +</p> +<p> +“Why, how foolish,” she declared. “Dot and +I were lost once—all by ourselves. Even Tom +Jonah wasn’t with us. Weren’t we, Dot? And we +slept out under a tree all night, and a nice Gypsy +woman found us in the morning and took us to +her camp. Didn’t she, Dot?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes! And an owl howled at us,” agreed +the smaller girl. “And I’d much rather sleep in +a Gypsy tent than have owls howl at me.” +</p> +<p> +“The owl <em>hooted</em>, Dot,” corrected Tess. +</p> +<p> +“Well, what’s the difference between a hoot and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span> +a howl?” demanded Dot, rather crossly. She did +so hate to be corrected! +</p> +<p> +“Well, of course,” said Rowena Birdsall +thoughtfully, “if you are acquainted with Gypsies +maybe you wouldn’t be scared. But I don’t believe +they gave you this bracelet for nothing.” +</p> +<p> +“No,” agreed Dot quickly. “For forty-five +cents. And we still owe Sammy Pinkney twenty-five +cents of it. And he’s run away.” +</p> +<p> +So they got around again to the first exciting +piece of news Tess and Dot had brought, and were +discussing that when Mr. Howbridge came out to +speak to the little visitors, giving them his written +answer to Ruth’s note. He heard about Sammy’s +escapade and some mention of the Gypsies. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” he chuckled, “if Sammy Pinkney has +been carried off by the Gypsies, I sympathize with +the Gypsies. I have a very vivid recollection of +how much trouble Sammy can make—and without +half trying. +</p> +<p> +“Now, children, give my note to Ruth. I am +very sorry that Luke Shepard is ill. If he does +not at once recover it may be well to bring him +here to Milton. With his aunt only just recovering +from her illness, it would be unwise to take +the boy home.” +</p> +<p> +This he said more to himself than to the little +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> +girls. Because of their errand Tess and Dot could +remain no longer. Ralph unhitched the pony and +Tess drove away. +</p> +<p> +Around the very first corner they spied a dusty, +rather battered touring-car just moving away. A +big, dark man, with gold hoops in his ears, was +driving it. There was a brilliantly dressed young +woman in the tonneau, which was otherwise filled +with boxes, baskets, a crate of fruit, and odd-shaped +packages. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Tess!” squealed Dot. “See there!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Dot!” rejoined her sister quite as excitedly. +“That is the young Gypsy lady.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh-oo!” moaned Dot. “Have we <em>got</em> to give +her back this fretful silver bracelet, Tessie?” +</p> +<p> +“We must <em>try</em>,” declared Tess firmly. “Ruth +says so. Get up, Scalawag! Come on—hurry! +We must catch them.” +</p> +<p> +The touring-car was going away from the pony-phaeton. +Scalawag objected very much to going +faster than his usual easy jog trot—unless it were +to dance behind a band! <em>He</em> didn’t care to overtake +the Gypsies’ motor-car. +</p> +<p> +And that car was going faster and faster. Tess +stopped talking to the aggravating Scalawag and +lifted up her voice to shout after the Gypsies. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, stop! Stop!” she called. “Miss—Miss +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> +Gypsy! We’ve got something for you! Why, +Dot, you are not hollering at all!” +</p> +<p> +“I—I’m trying to,” wailed the smaller girl. +“But I do so hate to make Alice give up her belt.” +</p> +<p> +The Gypsy turned his car into a cross street +ahead and disappeared. When Scalawag brought +the Corner House girls to that corner the car was +so far away that the girls’ voices at their loudest +pitch could not have reached the ears of the +Romany folk. +</p> +<p> +“Now, just see! We’ll never be able to give that +bracelet back if you don’t do your share of the +hollering, Dot Kenway,” complained Tess. +</p> +<p> +“I—I will,” promised Dot. “Anyway, I will +when it’s your turn to wear the bracelet.” +</p> +<p> +The little girls reached home again at a time +when the whole Corner House family seemed disrupted. +To the amazement of Tess and Dot their +sister Ruth had departed for the mountains. +Neale had only just then returned from seeing +her aboard the train. +</p> +<p> +“And it’s too late to stop her, never mind what +Mr. Howbridge says in this note,” cried Agnes. +“That foolish Cecile! Here is the second half of +her telegraph message,” and she read it aloud +again: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“Until afternoon; will wire you then how he is.” +</p> +<p> +“Crickey!” gasped Neale, red in the face with +laughter, and taking the two telegrams to read +them in conjunction: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“Arrived Oakhurst. They will not let me see +Luke until afternoon. Will wire you then how +he is.” +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t that just like a girl?” +</p> +<p> +“No more like a girl than it is like a boy,” +snapped Agnes. “I’m sure all the brains in the +world are not of the masculine gender.” +</p> +<p> +“I stand corrected,” meekly agreed her friend. +“Just the same, I don’t think that even you, +Aggie, would award Cecile Shepard a medal for +perspicuity.” +</p> +<p> +“Why—<em>why</em>,” gasped the listening Dot, “has +Cecile got one of those things the matter with +her? I thought it was Luke who got hurt?” +</p> +<p> +“You are perfectly right, Dottie,” said Agnes, +before Neale could laugh at the little girl. “It <em>is</em> +Luke who is hurt. But this Neale O’Neil is very +likely to dislocate his jaw if he pronounces many +such big words. He is only showing off.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span> +</p> +<p> +“Squelched!” admitted Neale good-naturedly. +“Well, what do you wish done with the car? Shall +I put it up? Can’t chase Ruth’s train in it, and +bring her back.” +</p> +<p> +“You might chase the Gypsies,” suggested +Tess slowly. “We saw them again—Dot and +me.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! The Gypsies? What do you think, +Neale? I do believe there is something in that +fortune-telling business,” Agnes cried. +</p> +<p> +“I bet there is,” agreed Neale. “Money for the +Gypsies.” +</p> +<p> +But Agnes repeated what the Gypsy girl had +said to Ruth and herself just as the elder Corner +House girl was starting for the train. +</p> +<p> +“I saw that Gyp of course,” agreed Neale. +“But, pshaw! she only just <em>guessed</em>. Of course +there isn’t any truth in what those fortune tellers +hand you. Not much!” +</p> +<p> +“There was something in that basket they +handed Tess and me,” said Dot, complacently +eyeing the silver girdle on the Alice-doll. +</p> +<p> +“Say! About that bracelet, Aggie,” broke in +Neale. “Do you know what I believe?” +</p> +<p> +“What, Neale?” +</p> +<p> +“I believe those Gypsies must have stolen it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span> +Then they got scared, thinking that the police +were after them, and the women dropped it into +the basket the kids bought, believing they could +get the bracelet back when it was safe for them +to do so.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you really suppose that is the explanation?” +</p> +<p> +“I am afraid the bracelet is ‘stolen goods.’ +Perhaps the children had better not carry it away +from the house any more. Or until we are sure. +The police—” +</p> +<p> +“Mercy me, Neale! you surely would not tell +the police about the bracelet?” +</p> +<p> +“Not yet. But I was going to suggest to Ruth +that she advertise the bracelet in the Milton +<em>Morning Post</em>. Advertise it in the ‘Lost and +Found’ column, just as though it had been picked +up somewhere. Then let us see if the Gypsies—or +somebody else—comes after it.” +</p> +<p> +“And if somebody does?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, we can always refuse to give it up until +ownership is proved,” declared Neale. +</p> +<p> +“All right. Let’s advertise it at once. We +needn’t wait for Ruth to come back,” said the +energetic Agnes. “How should such an advertisement +be worded, Neale?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span> +</p> +<p> +They proceeded to evolve a reading notice advertising +the finding of the silver bracelet, which +when published added not a little to the complications +of the matter. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span><a name='chVIII' id='chVIII'></a>CHAPTER VIII—THE MISFORTUNES OF A RUNAWAY</h2> +<p> +In this present instance Sammy Pinkney was +not obliged to exert his imagination to any very +great degree to make himself believe that he was +having real adventure. Romance very soon took +the embryo pirate by the hand and led him into +most exciting and quite unlooked-for events. +</p> +<p> +Sammy’s progress was slow because of the +weight of the extension-bag. Yet as he trudged +on steadily he put a number of miles behind him +that afternoon. +</p> +<p> +Had his parents known in which direction to +look for him they might easily have overtaken the +runaway. Neale O’Neil could have driven out this +road in the Kenway’s car and brought Sammy +back before supper time. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Pinkney, however, labored under the delusion +that because Sammy was piratically inclined, +he would head toward the sea. So he got in touch +with people all along the railroad line to Pleasant +Cove, suspecting that the boy might have purchased +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> +a ticket in that direction with a part of +the contents of his burglarized bank. +</p> +<p> +The nearest thing to the sea that Sammy came +to after passing the canal on the edge of Milton +was a big pond which he sighted about mid-afternoon. +Its dancing blue waters looked very cool +and refreshing, and the young traveler thought of +his bathing suit right away. +</p> +<p> +“I can hide this bag and take a swim,” he +thought eagerly. “I bet that pond is all right. +Hullo! There’s some kids. I wonder if they +would steal my things if I go in swimming?” +</p> +<p> +He was not incautious. Being mischievously +inclined himself, he suspected other boys of having +similar propensities. The boys he had observed +were playing down by the water’s edge +where an ice-house had once stood. But the building +had been destroyed by fire, all but its roof. +The eaves of this shingled roof, which was quite +intact, now rested on the ground. +</p> +<p> +The boys were sliding from the ridge of the roof +to the ground, and then climbing up again to repeat +the performance. It looked to be a lot of fun. +</p> +<p> +After Sammy had hidden his extension-bag in +a clump of bushes, he approached the slide. One +boy, who was the largest and oldest of the group, +called to Sammy: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span> +</p> +<p> +“Come on, kid. Try it. The slide’s free.” +</p> +<p> +It looked to be real sport, and Sammy could not +resist the invitation given so frankly. He saw +that the bigger boy sat on a piece of board when +he slid down the shingles; but the others slid on +the seat of their trousers—and so did Sammy. +</p> +<p> +It proved to be an hilarious occasion. One +might have heard those boys shouting and laughing +a mile away. +</p> +<p> +A series of races were held, and Sammy Pinkney +managed to win his share of them. This so +excited him that he failed for all of the time to +notice what fatal effect the friction was having +upon his trousers. +</p> +<p> +He was suddenly reminded, however, by a startling +happening. All the shingles on that roof +were not worn smooth. Some were “splintery.” +Sammy emitted a sharp cry as he reached the +ground after a particularly swift descent of the +roof, and rising, he clapped his hand to that part +of his anatomy upon which he had been tobogganing, +with a most rueful expression on his countenance. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my! Oh, my!” cried Sammy. “I’ve got +two big holes worn right through my pants! My +good pants, too. My maw will give me fits, so she +will. I’ll never <em>dare</em> go home now.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> +</p> +<p> +The big boy who had saved his own trousers +from disaster by using the piece of board to slide +on, shouted with laughter. But another of the +party said to Sammy: +</p> +<p> +“Don’t tell your mother. I aren’t going to tell +<em>my</em> mother, you bet. By and by she’ll find the +holes and think they just wore through naturally.” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said Sammy, with a sigh, “I guess I’ve +slid down enough for to-day, anyway. Good-bye, +you fellers, I’ll see you later.” +</p> +<p> +He did not feel at all as cheerful as he spoke. +He was really smitten with remorse, for this was +almost a new suit he had on. He wished heartily +that he had put on that cowboy suit—even his +bathing suit—before joining that coasting party. +</p> +<p> +“That big feller,” grumbled Sammy, “is a foxy +one, he is! He didn’t wear through his pants, you +bet. But <em>me</em>—” +</p> +<p> +Sammy was very much lowered in his own estimation +over this mishap. He was by no means so +smart as he had believed himself to be. He felt +gingerly from time to time of the holes in his +trousers. They were of such a nature that they +could scarcely be hidden. +</p> +<p> +“Crickey!” he muttered, “she sure will give +me fits.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> +</p> +<p> +The boys he had been playing with disappeared. +Sammy secured his bag and suddenly found it +very, very heavy. Evening was approaching. +The sun was so low now that its almost level rays +shone into his eyes as he plodded along the road. +</p> +<p> +A farmer going to Milton market in an auto-truck, +its load covered with a brown tarpaulin, +passed Sammy. If it had not been for the holes +in his trousers, and what his mother would do and +say about it, the boy surely would have asked the +farmer for a ride back home! +</p> +<p> +His hesitancy cost him the ride. And he met +nobody else on this road he was traveling. He +struggled on, his courage beginning to ebb. He +had eaten the last crumbs of his lunch. After the +pond was out of sight behind him the runaway saw +no dwellings at all. The road had entered a wood, +and that wood grew thicker and darker as he +advanced. +</p> +<p> +Fireflies twinkled in the bushes. There was a +hum of insect life and somewhere a big bullfrog +tuned his bassoon—a most eerie sound. A bat +flew low above his head and Sammy dodged, uttering +a startled squawk. +</p> +<p> +“Crickey! I don’t like this a bit,” he panted. +</p> +<p> +But the runaway was no coward. He was quite +sure that there was nothing in these woods that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span> +would really hurt him. He could still see some +distance back from the road on either hand, and +he selected a big chestnut tree at the foot of which, +between two roots, there was a hollow filled with +leaves and trash. +</p> +<p> +This made not a bad couch, as he very soon +found. He thrust the bag that had become so +heavy farther into the hollow and lay down before +it. But tired as he was, he could not at once go +to sleep. +</p> +<p> +Somewhere near he heard a trickle of water. +The sound made the boy thirsty. He finally got +up and stumbled through the brush, along the +roadside in the direction of the running water. +</p> +<p> +He found it—a spring rising in the bank above +the road. Sammy carried a pocket-cup and soon +satisfied his thirst by its aid. He had some difficulty +in finding his former nest; but when he did +come to the hollow between two huge roots, with +the broadly spreading chestnut tree boughs overhead, +he soon fell asleep. +</p> +<p> +Nothing disturbed Sammy thereafter until it +was broad daylight. He awoke as much refreshed +as though he had slept in his own bed at home. +</p> +<p> +Young muscles recover quickly from strain. All +he remembered, too, was the fun he had had the +day before, while he was foot-loose. Even the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span> +disaster to his trousers seemed of little moment +now. He had always envied ragged urchins; they +seemed to have so few cares and nobody to bother +them. +</p> +<p> +He ran with a whoop to the spring, drank his +fill from it, and then doused his face and hands +therein. The sun and air dried his head after his +ablutions and there was nobody to ask if “he had +washed behind his ears.” +</p> +<p> +He returned to the chestnut tree where he had +lain all night, whistling. Of course he was hungry; +but he believed there must be some house +along the road where he could buy breakfast. +Sammy Pinkney was not at all troubled by his situation +until, stooping to look into the cavity near +which he had slept, he made the disconcerting discovery +that his extension-bag was not there! +</p> +<p> +“Wha—wha—<em>what</em>?” stammered Sammy. +“It’s gone! Who took it?” +</p> +<p> +That he had been robbed while he went to the +spring was the only explanation there could be of +this mysterious disappearance. At least, so +thought Sammy. +</p> +<p> +He ran around the tree, staring all about—even +up into the thickly leaved branches where the +clusters of green burrs were already formed. +Then he plunged through the fringe of bushes into +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +the road to see if he could spy the robber making +away in either direction. +</p> +<p> +All he saw was a rabbit hopping placidly across +the highway. A jay flew overhead with raucous +call, as though he laughed at the bereft boy. And +Sammy Pinkney was in no mood to stand being +laughed at! +</p> +<p> +“You mean old thing!” he shouted at the flashing +jay—which merely laughed at him again, just +as though he did know who had stolen Sammy’s +bag and hugely enjoyed the joke. +</p> +<p> +In that bag were many things that Sammy considered +precious as well as necessary articles of +clothing. There was his gun and the shot for it! +How could he defend himself from attack or shoot +game in the wilds, if either became necessary? +</p> +<p> +“Oh, dear!” Sammy finally sniffed, not above +crying a few tears as there was nobody by to see. +“Oh, dear! Now I’ve <em>got</em> to wear this good suit—although +’tain’t so good anyway with holes in +the pants. +</p> +<p> +“But all my other things—crickey! Ain’t it +just mean? Whoever took my bag, I hope he’ll +have the baddest kind of luck. I—I hope he’ll +have to go to the dentist’s and have all his teeth +pulled, so I do!” which, from a recent experience +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> +of the runaway, seemed the most painful punishment +that could be exacted from the thief. +</p> +<p> +Wishing any amount of ill-fortune for the robber +would not bring back his bag. Sammy quite +realized this. He had his money safely tied into +a very grubby handkerchief, so that was all right. +But when he started off along the road at last, he +was in no very cheerful frame of mind. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span><a name='chIX' id='chIX'></a>CHAPTER IX—THINGS GO WRONG</h2> +<p> +Of course there was no real reason why life at +the old Corner House should not flow quite as +placidly with Ruth away as when the elder sister +was at home. It was a fact, however, that things +seemed to begin to go wrong almost at once. +</p> +<p> +Having written the notice advertising the silver +bracelet as though it had been found by chance, +Agnes made Neale run downtown again at once +with it so as to be sure the advertisement would +be inserted in the next morning’s <em>Post</em>. +</p> +<p> +As the automobile had not been put into the +garage after the return from taking Ruth to the +station, Neale used it on this errand, and on his +way back there was a blowout. Of course if Ruth +had been at home she could scarcely have averted +this misfortune. However, had she been at home +the advertisement regarding the bracelet might +not have been written at all. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile, Mrs. McCall’s preserve jars did not +seal well, and the next day the work had to be done +all over again. Linda cut her finger “to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span> +bone,” as she gloomily announced. And Uncle +Rufus lost a silver dollar somewhere in the grass +while he was mowing the lawn. +</p> +<p> +“An’ dollars is as scarce wid me as dem hen’s +teef dey talks about,” said the old darkey. “An’ +I never yet did see a hen wid teef—an’ Ah reckon +I’ve seen a million of ’em.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh-oo!” murmured Dot Kenway. “A million +hens, Unc’ Rufus? <em>Is</em> there that many?” +</p> +<p> +“He, he!” chuckled the old man. “Ain’t that +the beatenes’ chile dat ever was? Always a-questionin’ +an’ a-questionin’. Yo’ can’t git by wid any +sprodigious statement when she is around—no, +suh!” +</p> +<p> +Nor could such an expression as “sprodigious” +go unchallenged with Dot on the scene—no, indeed! +A big word in any case attracted Miss +Dorothy. +</p> +<p> +“What does that mean, Unc’ Rufus?” she +promptly demanded. “Is—is ‘sprodigious’ a dictionary +word, or just one of your made-up +words?” +</p> +<p> +“Go ‘long chile!” chuckled the old man. +“Can’t Uncle Rufus make up words just as good +as any dictionary-man? If I knows what Ah +wants to say, Ah says it, ne’er mind de +dictionary!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> +</p> +<p> +“That’s all very well, Unc’ Rufus,” Tess put +in. “But Ruthie only wants us to use language +that you find in books. So I guess you’d better +not take that one from Uncle Rufus, Dottie.” +</p> +<p> +“Howcome Missy Ruth so pertic’lar?” grumbled +the old man. “Yo’ little gals is gettin’ too +much l’arnin’—suah is! But none of hit don’t +find de ol’ man his dollar.” +</p> +<p> +At this complaint Tess and Dot went to work +immediately to hunt for the missing dollar. It +was while they were searching along the hedgerow +next to the Creamers’ premises that the little +girls got into their memorable argument with +Mabel Creamer about the lobster—an argument, +which, being overheard by Agnes, was reported +to the family with much hilarity. +</p> +<p> +Mabel, an energetic and sharp-tongued child, +and Bubby, her little brother, were playing in +their yard. That is, Bubby was playing while +Mabel nagged and thwarted him in almost everything +he wanted to do. +</p> +<p> +“Now, don’t stoop over like that, Bubby. Your +face gets all red like a lobster does. Maybe you’ll +turn into one.” +</p> +<p> +“I <em>ain’t</em> a lobs’er,” shouted Bubby. +</p> +<p> +“You will be one if you get red like that,” repeated +his sister in a most aggravating way. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span> +</p> +<p> +“I won’t be a lobs’er!” wailed Bubby. +</p> +<p> +“Of course you won’t be a lobster, Bubby,” +spoke up Tess from across the hedge. “You’re +just a boy.” +</p> +<p> +“Course I’s a boy,” declared Bubby stoutly, +sensing that Tess Kenway’s assurance was half +a criticism. “I don’t want to be a lobs’er—nor +a dirl, so there!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh-oo!” gasped Dot. +</p> +<p> +“You will be a lobster and turn all red if you +are a bad boy,” declared Mabel, who was always +in a bad temper when she was made to mind +Bubby. +</p> +<p> +“Why, Mabel,” murmured Dot, who knew a +thing or two about lobsters herself, “you wouldn’t +boil Bubby, would you?” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t have to boil ’em to make ’em turn red,” +declared Mabel, referring to the lobster, not the +boy. “My father brought home live lobsters once +and the big one got out of the basket on to the +kitchen floor.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my!” exclaimed the interested Dot. +“What happened?” +</p> +<p> +With her imagination thus spurred by appreciation, +Mabel pursued the fancy: “And there +were three little ones in the basket, and that old, +big lobster tried to make them get out on the floor +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span> +too. And when they wouldn’t, what do you +think?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know,” breathed Dot. +</p> +<p> +“Why, he got so mad at them that he turned red +all over. I saw him—” +</p> +<p> +“Why, Mabel Creamer!” interrupted Tess, unable +to listen further to such a flight of fancy without +registering a protest. “That can’t be so—you +know it can’t.” +</p> +<p> +“I’d like to know why it can’t be so?” demanded +Mabel. +</p> +<p> +“’Cause lobsters only turn red when they are +boiled. They are all green when they are alive.” +</p> +<p> +“How do you know so much, Tess Kenway?” +cried Mabel. “These are my lobsters and I’ll +have them turn blue if I want to—so there!” +</p> +<p> +There seemed to be no room for further argument. +Besides, Mabel grabbed Bubby by the +hand and dragged him away from the hedge. +</p> +<p> +“My!” murmured Dot, “Mabel has <em>such</em> a +‘magination. And maybe that lobster did get +mad, Tess. We don’t know.” +</p> +<p> +“She never had a live lobster in her family,” +declared Tess, quite emphatically. “You know +very well, Dot Kenway, that Mr. Creamer +wouldn’t bring home such a thing as a live lobster, +when there are little children in his house.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> +</p> +<p> +“M—mm—I guess that’s so,” agreed Dot. “A +live lobster would be worse than Sammy Pinkney’s +bulldog.” +</p> +<p> +Thus reminded of the absent Sammy the two +smaller Corner House girls postponed any further +search for Uncle Rufus’s dollar and went across +the street to learn if any news had been gained of +their runaway playmate. Mrs. Pinkney was still +despairing. She had imagined already a score of +misfortunes that might have befallen her absent +son, ranging from his eating of green apples to +being run over by an automobile. +</p> +<p> +“But, Mrs. Pinkney!” burst forth Tess at last, +“if Sammy has run away to sea to be a pirate, +there won’t be any green apples for him to eat—and +no automobiles.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, you can never tell what trouble Sammy +Pinkney will manage to get into,” moaned his +mother. “I can only expect the very worst.” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” Dot remarked with a sigh, as she and +Tess trudged home to supper, “I’m glad there +is only one boy in <em>my</em> family. My boy doll, Nosmo +King Kenway, will probably be a source of great +anxiety when he is older.” +</p> +<p> +“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Tess told her +placidly. “If he is very bad you can send him +to the reform school.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh—oo!” gasped Dot, all her maternal instincts +aroused at such a suggestion. “That +would be awful.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know. They do send boys to the reform +school. Jimmy Mulligan, whose mother +lives in that little house on Willow Wythe, is in +the reform school because he wouldn’t mind his +mother.” +</p> +<p> +“But they don’t send Sammy there,” urged +Dot. +</p> +<p> +“No—o. Of course,” admitted the really tender-hearted +Tess, “we know Sammy isn’t really +naughty. He is only silly to run away every once +in a while.” +</p> +<p> +There was much bustle inside the old Corner +House that evening. Because they really missed +Ruth so much, her sisters invented divers occupations +to fill the hours until bedtime. Tess and +Dot, for instance, had never cut out so many +paper-dolls in all their lives. +</p> +<p> +Another telegram had arrived from Cecile +Shepard (sent, of course, before Ruth had reached +Oakhurst), stating that she had been allowed to +see her brother and that, although he could not +be immediately moved, he was improving and was +absolutely in no danger. +</p> +<p> +“If Ruthie had only waited to get <em>this</em> message,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span> +complained Agnes, “she would not have +gone up there to the mountains at all. And just +see, Neale, how right that Gypsy girl was. There +was news on the way that changed the whole +aspect of affairs. She was quite wonderful, <em>I</em> +think.” +</p> +<p> +By this time Neale saw that it was better not +to try to ridicule Agnes’ budding belief in fortune +telling. “Less said, the soonest mended,” +was his wise opinion. +</p> +<p> +“I like Cecile Shepard,” Agnes went on to say, +“and always shall; but I don’t think she has +shown much sense about her brother’s illness. +Scaring everybody to death, and sending telegrams +like a patch-work quilt!” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe Ruth will come right home again when +she finds Luke is all right,” said Tess hopefully. +“Dear, me! aren’t boys a lot of trouble?” +</p> +<p> +“Sammy and Luke are,” agreed Dot. +</p> +<p> +“All but Neale,” said the loyal Agnes, her boy +chum having departed. “I don’t see what this +family would do without Neale O’Neil.” +</p> +<p> +In the morning the older sister’s absence +seemed to make quite as great a gap in the household +of the old Corner House as at night. But +Neale rushed in early with the morning paper to +show Agnes their advertisement in print. Under +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span> +the “Lost and Found” heading appeared the +following: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 4em;'> +“FOUND:—Silver bracelet, antique design. +Owner can regain it by proving property and paying +for this advertisement. Apply Kenway, Willow +and Main Streets.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It sounds quite dignified,” decided Agnes admiringly. +“I guess Ruth would approve.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Crickey!” ejaculated Neale O’Neil, “this is +<em>one</em> thing Ruth is not bossing. We did this off +our own bat, Aggie.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Just the same,” ruminated Agnes, “I wonder +what Mr. Howbridge will say if he reads it?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I am glad,” said Neale with gratitude, “that +my father doesn’t interfere with what I do. And +I haven’t any guardian, unless it is dear old Con +Murphy. Folks let me pretty much alone.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“If they didn’t,” said Agnes saucily, “I suppose +you would run away as you did from the +circus.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No,” laughed her chum. “One runaway in +the neighborhood is enough. Mr. Pinkney has been +up half the night, he tells me, telephoning and +sending telegrams. He has about made up his +mind that Sammy hasn’t gone in the direction of +Pleasant Cove, after all.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We ought to help hunt for Sammy,” cried +Agnes eagerly. “Let us take Mrs. Pinkney in +the auto, Neale, and search for that little rascal.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No. She will not leave the house. She wants +to greet Sammy when he comes back—no matter +whether it is day or night,” chuckled Neale. “But +Mr. Pinkney is going to get away from the office +this afternoon, and we’ll take him. He is afraid +his wife will be really ill.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Poor woman!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“She cannot be contented to sit down and wait +for Sammy to turn up—as he always does.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You mean, he always gets turned up,” giggled +Agnes. “Somebody is sure to find him.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well, then, it might as well be us,” agreed +Neale. “I’ll tune up the engine, and see that the +car is all right. We should be able to go over a +lot of these roads in an afternoon. Sammy could +not have got very far from Milton in two days, +or less.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span><a name='chX' id='chX'></a>CHAPTER X—ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS</h2> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Quite unsuspicious of the foregoing plans for +his apprehension, Sammy Pinkney was journeying +on, going steadily away from Milton, and traveling +much faster now that he did not have to carry +the extension-bag. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The boy had no idea who could have stolen his +possessions; but he rubbed his knuckles in his +eyes, forced back the tears, and pressed on, feeling +that freedom even without a change of garments +was preferable to the restrictions of home and all +the comforts there to be found. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He walked two miles or more and was very +hungry before he came to the first house. It stood +just at the edge of the big wood in which Sammy +had spent the night. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +It was scarcely more than a tumbled-down hut, +with broken panes of glass more common than +whole ones in the windows, these apertures stuffed +with hats and discarded garments, while half the +bricks had fallen from the chimney-top. There +were half a dozen barefooted children running +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +about, while a very wide and red-faced woman +stood in the doorway. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hullo, me bye!” she called to Sammy, as he +lingered outside the broken fence with a longing +eye upon her. “Where be yez bound so airly in +the marnin’?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I’m just traveling, Ma’am,” Sammy returned +with much dignity. “Could—could you sell me +some breakfast?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Breakfast, is it?” repeated the smiling +woman. “Shure, I’d give yez it, if mate wasn’t +so high now. Come in me kitchen and sit ye down. +There’s tay in the pot, and I’ll fry yez up a spider +full o’ pork and taters, if that’ll do yez?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The menu sounded tempting indeed to Sammy. +He accepted the woman’s invitation instantly and +entered the house, past the staring children. The +two oldest of the group, a shrewd-faced boy and +a sharp-featured girl, stood back and whispered +together while they watched the visitor. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Sammy was so much interested in the bountiful +breakfast with which the housewife supplied him +that he thought very little about the children peering +in at the door and open windows. When he +had eaten the last crumb he asked his hostess how +much he should pay her. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well, me bye, I’ll not overcharge ye,” she replied. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> +“If yez have ten cents about ye we’ll call +it square—an’ that’s only for the mate, as I said +before is so high, I dunno.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Sammy produced the knotted handkerchief, put +it on the table and untied it, displaying the coins +it held with something of a flourish. The jingle +of so many dimes brought a sigh of wonder in +unison from the young spectators at door and +windows. The woman accepted her dime without +comment. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Sammy thanked her politely, wiped his mouth +on his sleeve (napery was conspicuous by its +absence in this household) and started out the +door. The smaller children scattered to give him +passage; the older boy and girl had already gone +out of the badly fenced yard and were loitering +along the road in the direction Sammy was +traveling. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hullo! Here’s raggedy-pants,” said the girl +saucily, when Sammy came along. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“How did you get them holes in your breeches, +kid?” added the boy. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Never you mind,” rejoined Sammy gruffly. +“They’re <em>my</em> pants.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Stuck up, ain’t you?” jeered the girl and +stuck out her tongue at him. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Sammy thought these were two very impolite +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span> +children, and although he was not rated at home +for his own chivalrous conduct, he considered +these specimens in the road before him quite unpleasant +young people. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Ne’er mind,” said the boy, looking at Sammy +slyly, “he don’t know everything. He ain’t seen +everything if he is traveling all by himself. I bet +he’s run away.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I ain’t running away from you,” was Sammy’s +belligerent rejoinder. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You would if I said ‘Boo!’ to you.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No, I wouldn’t.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Ya!” scoffed the girl, leering at Sammy, +“don’t talk so much. Do something to him, +Peter.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Peter glanced warily back at the house. Perhaps +he knew the large, red-faced woman might +take a hand in proceedings if he pitched upon the +strange boy. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I bet,” he said, starting on another tack, “that +he never saw a cherry-colored calf like our’n.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I bet he never did,” crowed the girl in delight. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“A cherry-colored calf,” scoffed Sammy. “Get +out! There ain’t such a thing. A calf might be +red; there <em>are</em> red cows—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“This calf is cherry-colored,” repeated the boy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> +earnestly. “It’s down there in our pasture.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Don’t believe it,” said Sammy flatly. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“’Tis so!” cried the girl. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I tell you,” said the very shrewd-looking boy. +“We’ll show it to you for ten cents.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t believe it,” repeated Sammy, but more +doubtfully. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The girl laughed at him more scornfully than +before. “He’s afraid to spend a dime—an’ him +with so much money,” she cried. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t believe you’ve got a cherry-colored +calf to show me.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Gimme the dime and I’ll show you whether +we have or not,” said Peter. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No,” said the cautious Sammy. “I’ll give you +a dime <em>if</em> you show it to me. But no foolin’. I +won’t give you a cent if the calf is any other +color.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“All right,” shouted the other boy. “Come on +and I’ll show you. Come on, Liz.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“All right, Peter,” said the girl, quite as eagerly. +“Hurry up, raggedy-pants. We can use +that dime, Peter and me can.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The bare-legged youngsters got through a rail +fence and darted down a path into a scrubby pasture, +as wild as unbroken colts. Sammy, feeling +fine after the bountiful breakfast he had eaten, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span> +chased after them wishing that he had thought +to remove his shoes and stockings too. Peter and +Liz seemed so much more free and untrammeled +than he! +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hold on!” puffed Sammy, coming finally to +the bottom of the slope. “I ain’t going to run +my head off for any old calf—Huh!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +From behind a clump of brush appeared suddenly +a cow—a black and white cow, probably of +the Holstein breed. There followed a scrambling +in the bushes. Liz jumped into them with a shriek +and drove out a little, blatting, stiff-legged calf. +It was all of a glossy black, from its nose to the +tip of its tail. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That’s him! That’s him!” shrieked Liz. “A +cherry-colored calf.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What did I tell you?” demanded the boy, +Peter. “Give us the dime.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You go on!” exclaimed Sammy. “I knew all +the time you were story-telling. That’s no cherry-colored +calf.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“’Tis too! It’s just the color of a black-heart +cherry,” giggled Liz. “You got to give up ten +cents.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Won’t neither,” Sammy declared. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I’ll take it off you,” threatened Peter, growing +belligerent. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You won’t,” stubbornly declared Sammy, who +did not propose to be cheated. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Peter jumped for him and Sammy could not +run. One reason why he could not retreat was +because Liz grabbed him from the rear, holding +him around the waist. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She pulled him over backward, while her +brother began to pummel Sammy most heartily +from above. It was a most unfair attack and a +most uncomfortable situation for the runaway. +Although he managed to defend his face for the +most part from Peter’s blows, he could do little +else. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Lemme up! Lemme up!” bawled Sammy. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Gimme the dime,” panted Peter. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I won’t! ’Tain’t fair!” gasped Sammy, too +plucky to give in. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Liz had now squirmed from under the struggling +boys. She must have seen at the house in +which pocket Sammy kept the knotted handkerchief, +for she thrust her hand into that pocket and +snatched out the hoard of dimes before the owner +realized what she was doing. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hey! Stop! Lemme up!” roared Sammy +again. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I got it, Peter!” shrieked Liz, and, springing +up, she darted into the bushes and disappeared. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Stop! She’s stole my money,” gasped Sammy +in horror and alarm. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“She never! You didn’t have no money!” declared +Peter, and with a final blow that stunned +Sammy for the moment, the other leaped up and +followed his wild companion into the brush. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Sammy, weeping in good earnest now, bruised +and scratched in body and sore in spirit, climbed +slowly to his feet. Never before in any of his +runaway escapades had he suffered such ignominy +and loss. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Why! he had actually fallen among thieves. +First his bag and all his chattels therein had been +stolen. Now these two ragamuffins had robbed +him of every penny he possessed. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He dared not go back to the house where he +had bought breakfast and complain. The other +youngsters there might fall upon and beat him +again! +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Sammy Pinkney at last was tasting the bitter +fruits of wrong doing. Even weeding another +beet-bed could have been no more painful than +these experiences which he was now suffering. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span><a name='chXI' id='chXI'></a>CHAPTER XI—MYSTERIES ACCUMULATE</h2> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And if you go to the store, or anywhere else +for Mrs. McCall or Linda, remember <em>don’t</em> take +that bracelet with you,” commanded Agnes in a +most imperative manner, fairly transfixing her +two smaller sisters with an index finger. “Remember!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Ruthie didn’t say so,” complained Dot. “Did +she, Tess?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But I guess we’d better mind what Agnes says +when Ruth isn’t at home,” confessed Tess, more +amenable to discipline. “You know, Aggie has +got to be responsible now.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well,” muttered the rebellious Dot, “never +mind if she is ‘sponserble, she needn’t be so awful +bossy about it!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes did, of course, feel her importance while +Ruth was away. It was not often that she was +made responsible for the family welfare in any +particular. And just now the matter of the silver +bracelet loomed big on her horizon. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She scarcely expected the advertisement in the +<em>Morning Post</em> to bring immediate results. Yet, it +might. The Gypsies’ gift to the little girls was +a very queer matter indeed. The suggestion that +the bracelet had been stolen by the Romany folk +did not seem at all improbable. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +And if this was so, whoever had lost the ornament +would naturally be watching the “Lost and +Found” column in the newspaper. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Unless the owner doesn’t know he has lost it,” +Agnes suggested to Neale. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“How’s that? He’d have to be more absent-minded +than Professor Ware not to miss a bracelet +like that,” scoffed her boy chum. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Professor Ware!” giggled Agnes, suddenly. +“<em>He</em> would forget anything, I do believe. +Do you know what happened at his house the +other evening when the Millers and Mr. and Mrs. +Crandall went to call?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“The poor professor made a bad break I suppose,” +grinned Neale. “What did he do?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why, Mrs. Ware saw the callers coming just +before they rang the bell and the professor had +been digging in the garden. Of course she +straightened things up a little before she appeared +in the parlor to welcome the visitors. But the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span> +professor did not appear. Somebody asked for +him at last and Mrs. Ware went to the foot of the +stairs to call him. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“‘Oh, Professor!’ she called up the stairs, and +the company heard him answer back just as plain: +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“‘Maria, I can’t remember whether you sent +me up here to change my clothes or to go to bed.’” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I can believe it!” chortled Neale O’Neil. “He +has made some awful breaks in school. But I +don’t believe <em>he</em> ever owned that bracelet, Aggie.” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The first person who displayed interest in the +advertisement in the <em>Post</em> about the bracelet, save +the two young people who put it in the paper, +proved to add much to the mystery of the affair +and nothing at all to the peace of mind of Agnes, +at least. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes was busy at some mending—actually +hose-darning, for Ruth insisted that the flyaway +sister should mend her own stockings, which Aunt +Sarah’s keen eyes inspected—when she chanced +to raise her head to glance out of the front window +of the sewing room. A strange looking turnout +had halted before the front gate. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The vehicle itself was a decrepit express wagon +on the side of which in straggling blue letters was +painted the one word “JUNK,” but the horse +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span> +drawing the wagon was a surprisingly well-kept +and good looking animal. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The back of the wagon was piled high with +bundles of newspapers, and bags, evidently stuffed +with rags, were likewise in the wagon body. The +man climbing down from the seat just as Agnes +looked did not seem at all like the usual junk +dealer who passed through Milton’s streets heralded +by a “chime” of tin-can bells. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He was a small, swarthy man, and even at the +distance of the front gate from Agnes’ window +the girl could see that he wore gold hoops in his +ears. He was quick but furtive in his motions. +He glanced in a birdlike way down the street and +across the Parade Ground, which was diagonally +opposite the old Corner House, before he entered +the front gate. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He’d better go around to the side door,” +thought Agnes aloud. “He must be a very fashionable +junkman to come to the front of the house. +And at that I don’t believe Mrs. McCall has any +rags or papers to sell just now.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The swarthy man came straight on to the porch +and up the steps. Agnes heard the bell, and knowing +Linda was busy and being likewise rather +curious, she dropped her stocking darning and ran +into the front hall. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The moment she unlatched the big door the +swarthy stranger inserted himself into the house. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why! who are you?” she demanded, fairly +thrust aside by the man’s eagerness. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She saw then that he had a folded paper in +one hand. He thrust it before her eyes, pointing +to a place upon it with a very grimy finger. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You have found it!” he chattered with great +excitement. “That ancient bracelet which has for +so many generations been an heirloom—yes?—of +the Costello. Queen Alma herself wore it at a +time long ago. You have found it?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes was made almost speechless by his vehemence +as well as by the announcement itself. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I—I—What <em>do</em> you mean?” she finally +gasped. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You know!” he ejaculated, rapping on the +newspaper with his finger like a woodpecker on +a dead limb. “You put in the paper—<em>here</em>. It is +lost. You find. <em>You</em> are Kenway, and you say the +so-antique bracelet shall be give to who proves +property.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We will return it to the owner. Only to the +owner,” interrupted Agnes, backing away from +him again, for his vehemence half frightened her. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Shall I bring Queen Alma here to say it was +her property?” he cried. +</p> +<div><a name='fig2' id='fig2'></a></div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i003' id='i003'></a> +<img src="images/illus-112.jpg" alt="“You have found it!” he chattered with great excitement." title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>“You have found it!” he chattered with great excitement.</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span></div> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That would be better. If Queen Alma—whoever +she is—owns the bracelet we will give it to +her when she proves property.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The little man uttered a staccato speech in a +foreign tongue. Agnes did not understand. He +spread wide his arms in a gesture of seemingly +utter despair. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And Queen Alma!” he sputtered. “She is +dead these two—no! t’ree hundred year!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Mercy me!” gasped Agnes, backing away +from him and sitting suddenly down in one of the +straight-backed hall chairs. “Mercy me!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span><a name='chXII' id='chXII'></a>CHAPTER XII—GETTING IN DEEPER</h2> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You see, Mees Kenway,” sputtered the +swarthy man eagerly, “I catch the paper, here.” +He rapped the <em>Post</em> again with his finger. “I +read the Engleesh—yes. I see the notice you, the +honest Kenway, have put in the paper—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Let me tell you, sir,” said Agnes, starting up, +“<em>all</em> the Kenways are honest. I am not the only +honest person in our family I should hope!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes was much annoyed. The excitable little +foreigner spread abroad his hands again and +bowed low before her. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Please! Excuse!” he said. “I admire all +your family, oh, so very much! But it is to you +who put in the paper the words here, about the +very ancient silver bracelet.” Again that woodpecker +rapping on the Lost and Found column in +the <em>Post</em>. “No?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes. I put the advertisement in the paper,” +acknowledged Agnes, but wishing very much that +she had not, or that Neale O’Neil was present at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> +this exciting moment to help her handle the situation. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“So! I have come for it,” cried the swarthy +man, as though the matter were quite settled. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +But Agnes’ mind began to function pretty well +again. She determined not to be “rushed.” This +strange foreigner might be perfectly honest. But +there was not a thing to prove that the bracelet +given to Tess and Dot by the Gypsy women belonged +to him. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“How do you know,” she asked, “that the +bracelet we have in our possession is the one you +have lost?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I? Oh, no, lady! I did not lose the ancient +heirloom. Oh, no.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But you say—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I am only its rightful owner,” he explained. +“Had Queen Alma’s bracelet been in my possession +it never would have been lost and so found +by the so—gracious Kenway. Indeed, no!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Then, what have you come here for?” cried +Agnes, in some desperation. “I cannot give the +bracelet to anybody but the one who lost it—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You say here the owner!” cried the man, beginning +again the woodpecker tapping on the +paper. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But how do I know you own it?” she gasped. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Show it me. In one moment’s time can I tell—at +the one glance,” was the answer of assurance. +“Oh, yes, yes, yes!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +These “yeses” were accompanied by the emphatic +tapping on the paper. Agnes wondered +that the <em>Post</em> at that spot was not quite worn +through. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Perhaps it was fortunate that at this moment +Neale O’Neil came in. That he came direct from +the garage and apparently from a struggle with +oily machinery, both his hands and face betrayed. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hey!” he exploded. “If we are going to take +Mr. Pinkney out on a cross-country chase after +that missing pirate this afternoon, we’ve got to +get a hustle on. You going to be ready, Aggie? +Mr. Pinkney gets home at a quarter to one.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Neale!” cried Agnes, turning eagerly to +greet the boy. “Talk to this man—do! I don’t +know what to say to him.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The boy’s countenance broadened in a smile. +</p> +<p> + “‘Say “Hullo!” and “How-de-do!”<br /> + “How’s the world a-using you?”’”<br /> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +quoted Neale, and chuckled outright. “What’s +his name? What does he want?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Costello—that me,” interposed the strange +junkman. He gazed curiously at Neale with his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> +snapping black eyes. “<em>You</em> are not Kenway—here +in the pape’?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Again the finger tapped upon the Lost and +Found column in the <em>Post</em>. Neale shook his head. +He glanced out of the open door and spied the +wagon and its informative sign. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You are a junkman, are you, Mr. Costello?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes, yes, yes! I buy the pape’, buy the rag +and bot’—buy anytheeng I get cheap. But not to +buy do I come this time to Mees Kenway. No, no! +I come because of this in the paper.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +His tapping finger called attention again to the +advertisement of the bracelet. Neale expelled a +surprised whistle. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Aggie!” he said, “is he after the Gypsy +bracelet?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The swarthy man’s face was all eagerness +again. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes, yes, yes!” he sputtered. “I am Gypsy. +Spanish Gypsy. Of the tribe of Costello. I am—what +you say?—direct descendent of Queen +Alma who live three hunder’—maybe more—year +ago, and she own that bracelet the honest Kenway +find!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“She—she’s dead, then? This Queen Alma?” +stammered Neale. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“<em>Si, si!</em> Yes, yes! But the so-antique bracelet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> +descend by right to our family. That Beeg +Jeem—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He burst again into the language he had used +before which was quite unintelligible to either of +his listeners; but Neale thought by the man’s expression +of countenance that his opinion of “Beeg +Jeem” was scarcely to be told in polite English. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Wait!” Neale broke in. “Let’s get this +straight. We—we find a bracelet which we advertise. +You say the bracelet is yours. Where and +how did you lose it?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I already tell the honest Kenway, I do <em>not</em> +lose it.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It was stolen from you, then?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes, yes, yes! It was stole. A long ago it was +stole. And now Beeg Jeem say he lose it. You +find—yes?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“This seems to be complicated,” Neale declared, +shaking his head and gazing wonderingly +at Agnes. “If you did not lose it yourself, Mr. +Costello—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But it is mine!” cried the man. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We don’t know that,” said Neale, somewhat +bruskly. “You must prove it.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Prove it?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes. In the first place, describe the bracelet. +Tell us just how it is engraved, or ornamented, or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> +whatever it is. How wide and thick is it? What +kind of a bracelet is it, aside from its being made +of silver?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Ah! Queen Alma’s bracelet is so well known +to the Costello—how shall I say? Yes, yes, yes!” +cried the man, with rather graceful gestures. +“And when Beeg Jeem tell me she is lost—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“All right. Describe it,” put in Neale. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes suddenly tugged at Neale’s sleeve. Her +pretty face was aflame with excitement. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Neale!” she interposed in a whisper. +“Even if he can describe it exactly we do not +know that he is the real owner.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Shucks! That’s right,” agreed the boy. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He turned to Costello again demanding: +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“How can you prove that this bracelet—if it is +the one you think it is—belongs to you?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“She belong to the Costello family. It is an +heirloom. I tell it you.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That’s all right. But you’ve got to prove it. +Even if you describe the thing that only proves +that you have seen it, or heard it described yourself. +It might be so, you know, Mr. Costello. You +must give us some evidence of ownership.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Queen Alma’s bracelet—” began Costello. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The junkman made a despairing gesture with +wide-spread arms. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Me? How can I tell you, sir, and the honest +Kenway? It has always belong to the Costello. +Yes, yes, yes! That so-ancient bracelet, Beeg +Jeem have no right to it.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But he was the one who lost it!” exclaimed +Neale, being quite confident now of the identity of +“Beeg Jeem.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes, yes, yes! So he say. I no believe. Then +I see the reading here in the pape’, of the honest +Kenway”—tap, tap, tapping once more of the +forefinger—“and I see it must be so. I—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hold on!” exclaimed Neale. “You did not lose +the bracelet. This other fellow did. You bring +him here and let him prove ownership.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No, no!” raved Costello, shaking both +clenched hands above his head. “He shall not +have it. It is mine. I am <em>the</em> Costello. Queen +Alma, she give it to the great, great, great gran’mudder +of <em>my</em> great, great, great—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Shucks!” ejaculated Neale. “Now you are +going too deep into the family records for me. I +can’t follow you. It looks to me like a case for +the courts to settle.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Neale!” gasped Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why, Aggie, we’d get into hot water if we let +this fellow, or any of those other Gypsies, have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> +the bracelet offhand. If this chap wants it, he will +have to see Mr. Howbridge.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, yes!” murmured the girl with sudden relief +in her voice. “We can tell Mr. Howbridge.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Guess we’ll have to,” agreed Neale. “We +certainly have bit off more than we can chew, +Aggie. I’ll say we have. I guess maybe we’d +have been wiser if we had told your guardian +about the old bracelet before advertising it. And +Ruth has nothing on us, at that! She did not +tell him. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We’re likely,” concluded Neale, with a side +glance at the swarthy man, “to have a dozen +worse than this one come here to bother us. +We surely did start something when we had that +ad. printed, Aggie.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span><a name='chXIII' id='chXIII'></a>CHAPTER XIII—OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY</h2> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Costello, the junkman, could not be further ignored, +for at this point he began another excitable +harangue. The Queen Alma bracelet, “Beeg +Jeem,” his own sorrows, and the fact that he saw +no reason why Agnes should not immediately give +up to him the silver bracelet, were all mixed up +together in a clamor that became almost deafening. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, what shall I do? What <em>shall</em> I do?” exclaimed +the Corner House girl. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +But Neale O’Neil was quite level-headed. Like +Agnes, at first he had for a little while been swept +off his feet by the swarthy man’s vehemence. He +regained his balance now. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We’re not going to do anything. We won’t +even show him the bracelet,” said the boy firmly. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But it is mine! It is the heirloom of the Costello! +I, myself, tell you so,” declared the junkman, +beating his breast now instead of the newspaper. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“All right. I believe you. Don’t yell so about +it,” said Neale, but quite calmly. “That does not +alter the fact that we cannot give the bracelet up. +That is, Miss Kenway cannot.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But she say here—in the paper—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, stop it!” exclaimed the exasperated boy. +“It doesn’t say in that paper that she will hand +the thing out to anybody who comes and asks for +it. If this other fellow you have been talking +about should come here, do you suppose we would +give it up to him, just on his say so?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No, no! It is not his. It never should have +been in the possession of his family, sir. I assure +you <em>I</em> am the Costello to whose ancestors the +great Queen Alma of our tribe delivered the +bracelet.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“All right. Let it go at that,” answered Neale. +“All the more reason why we must be careful who +gets it now. If it is honestly your bracelet you +will get it, Mr. Costello. But you will have to see +Miss Kenway’s guardian and let him decide.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Her—what you call it—does he have the +bracelet?” cried the man. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He will have it. You go there to-morrow. I +will give you his address. To-morrow he will talk +to you. He is not in his office to-day. He is a +lawyer.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, la, la! The law! I no like the law,” declared +Costello. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No, I presume you Gypsies don’t,” muttered +Neale, pulling out an envelope and the stub of a +pencil with which to write the address of Mr. +Howbridge’s office. “There it is. Now, that is +the best we can do for you. Only, nobody shall +be given the bracelet until you have talked with +Mr. Howbridge.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But, I no like! The honest Kenway say here, +in the paper—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +As he began to tap upon the newspaper again +Neale, who was a sturdy youth, crowded him out +upon the veranda of the old Corner House. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Now, go!” advised Neale, when he heard the +click of the door latch behind him. “You’ll make +nothing by lingering here and talking. There’s +your horse starting off by himself. Better get +him.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +This roused the junk dealer’s attention. The +horse was tired of standing and was half a block +away. Costello uttered an excited yelp and darted +after his junk wagon. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes let Neale inside the house again. She +was much relieved. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“There! isn’t this a mess?” she said. “I am +glad you thought of Mr. Howbridge. But I <em>do</em> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> +wish Ruth had been at home. She would have +known just what to say to that funny little man.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Humph! Maybe it would have been a good +idea if she had been here,” admitted Neale slowly. +“Ruth is awfully bossy, but things do go about +right when she is on the job.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We’ll have to see Mr. Howbridge—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But that can wait until to-morrow morning,” +Neale declared. “We can’t do so this afternoon +in any case. I happen to know he is out of town. +And we have promised Mr. Pinkney to take him +on a hunt for Sammy.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“All right. It is almost noon. You’d better +go and wash your face, Neale,” and she began to +giggle at him. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Don’t I know that? I came in here just to +remind you to begin to prink before dinner or +you’d never be ready.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She was already halfway up the stairs and +she leaned over the balustrade to make a gamin’s +face at him. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Just you tend to your own apple cart, Neale +O’Neil!” she told him. “I will be ready as soon +as you are.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +At dinner, which was eaten in the middle of the +day at this time of year at the old Corner House, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span> +Agnes appeared ready all but her hat for the car. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Aggie! can we go too?” cried Dot. “We +want to ride in the automobile, don’t we, Tess?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We maybe want to go riding,” confessed the +other sister slowly. “But I guess we can’t, Dot. +You forget that Margie and Holly Pease are coming +over at three o’clock. They haven’t seen the +fretted silver bracelet.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That reminds me,” said Agnes firmly. “You +must not take that bracelet out of the house. Understand? +Not at all.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why, Aggie!” murmured Tess, while Dot +grew quite red with indignation. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“If you wish to play with it indoors, all right,” +Agnes said. “Whose turn to have it, is it to-day?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Mine,” admitted Tess. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Then I hold you responsible. Not out of the +house. We have got to get Mr. Howbridge’s advice +about it, in any case.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Ruth didn’t say we couldn’t wear the bracelet +out-of-doors,” declared Dot, pouting. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I am in Ruth’s place,” responded the older +sister promptly. “Now, remember! You might +lose it anyway. And <em>then</em> what would we do if +the owner really comes for it?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But they won’t!” cried Dot, confidently. +“Those Gypsy ladies gave it to us for keeps. I am +sure.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You certainly would not wish to keep the +bracelet if the person the Gypsies stole it from +came here to get it?” said Agnes sternly. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh—oo! No-o,” murmured Dot. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Of course we would not, Sister,” Tess declared +briskly. “If we knew just where their +camp is we would take it to them anyway. Of +course we would, Dot!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, of course,” agreed Dot, but very faintly. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You children are so seldom observant,” went +on Agnes in her most grown-up manner. “You +should have looked into that basket when you +bought it of the Gypsies. Then you would have +seen the bracelet before the women got away. +You are almost <em>never</em> observant.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why, Aggie!” Tess exclaimed, rather hurt by +the accusation of her older sister. “That is what +your Mr. Marks said when he came into our grade +at school just before the end of term last June.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Mr. Curtis G. Marks was the principal of the +High School which Agnes attended. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What was Mr. Marks doing over in your +room, Tess?” Agnes asked curiously. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Visiting. Our teacher asked him to ‘take the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span> +class.’ You know, visiting teachers always <em>are</em> so +nosey,” added Tess with more frankness than +good taste. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Better not let Ruth hear you use that expression, +child,” laughed Agnes. “But what about +being observant—or <em>un</em>observant?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He told us,” Tess went on to say, “to watch +closely, and then asked for somebody to give him +a number. So somebody said thirty-two.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And Mr. Marks went to the board and wrote +twenty-three on it. Of course, none of us said +anything. Then Mr. Marks asked for another +number and somebody gave him ninety-four. +Then he wrote forty-nine on the board, and nobody +said a word.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why didn’t you?” asked Agnes in wonder. +“Did you think he was teaching you some new +game?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I—I guess we were too polite. You see, he +was a visitor. And he said right out loud to our +teacher: ‘You see, they do not observe. Is it +dense stupidity, or just inattention?’ That’s <em>just</em> +what he said,” added Tess, her eyes flashing. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh!” murmured Dot. “Didn’t he know how +to write the number right?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“So,” continued Tess, “I guess we all felt sort +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span> +of hurt. And Belle Littleweed got so fidgety that +she raised her hand. Mr. Marks says: ‘Very well, +you give me a number.’ +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Belle lisps a little, you know, Aggie, and she +said right out: ‘Theventy-theven; thee if you can +turn that around!’ He didn’t think we noticed +anything, and were stupid; but I guess he knows +better now,” added Tess with satisfaction. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That is all right,” said Agnes with a sigh. +“I heartily wish you and Dot had been observant +when those women gave you the basket and you +had found the bracelet in it before they got away. +It is going to make us trouble I am afraid.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes told the little ones nothing about the +strange junkman and his claim. Nor did she mention +the affair to any of the remainder of the +Corner House family. She only added: +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“So don’t you take the bracelet out of the house +or let anybody at all have it—if Neale or I are +not here.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why, it would not be right to give the bracelet +to anybody but the Gypsy ladies, would it?” said +Tess. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Of course not,” agreed Dot. “And <em>they</em> +haven’t come after it.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes did not notice these final comments of +the two smaller girls. She had given them instructions, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span> +and those instructions were sufficient, +she thought, to avert any trouble regarding the +mysterious bracelet—whether it was “Queen +Alma’s” or not. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The junkman, Costello, certainly had filled Agnes’ +mind with most romantic imaginations! If +the old silver bracelet was a Gypsy heirloom and +had been handed down through the Costello tribe—as +the junkman claimed—for three hundred +years and more, of course it would not be considered +stolen property. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The mystery remained why the Gypsy women +had left the bracelet in the basket they had almost +forced upon the Kenway children. The explanation +of this was quite beyond Agnes, unless it had +been done because the Gypsy women feared that +this very Costello was about to claim the heirloom, +and they considered it safer with Tess and Dot +than in their own possession. True, this seemed +a far-fetched explanation of the affair; yet what +so probable? +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The Gypsies might be quite familiar with Milton, +and probably knew a good deal about the old +Corner House and the family now occupying it. +The little girls would of course be honest. The +Gypsies were shrewd people. They were quite +sure, no doubt, that the Kenways would not give +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span> +the bracelet to any person but the women who sold +the basket, unless the right to the property could +be proved. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And even if that Costello man does own the +bracelet, how is he going to prove it?” Agnes +asked Neale, as they ran the car out of the garage +after dinner. “I guess we are going to hand dear +old Mr. Howbridge a big handful of trouble.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Crickey! isn’t that a fact?” grumbled Neale. +“The more I think of it, the sorrier I am we put +that advertisement in the paper, Aggie.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +There was nothing more to be said about that +at the time, for Mr. Pinkney was already waiting +for them on his front steps. His wife was at the +door and she looked so weary-eyed and pale of +face that Agnes at least felt much sympathy for +her. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, don’t worry, Mrs. Pinkney!” cried the +girl from her seat beside Neale. “I am sure +Sammy will turn up all right. Neale says so—everybody +says so! He is such a plucky boy, anyway. +Nothing would happen to him.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But this seems worse than any other time,” +said the poor woman. “He must have never +meant to come back, or he would not have taken +that picture with him.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Nonsense!” exclaimed her husband cheerfully. “Sammy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> +sort of fancied himself in that +picture, that is all. He is not without his share +of vanity.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That is what <em>you</em> say,” complained Sammy’s +mother. “But I just feel that something dreadful +has happened to him this time.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Never mind,” called Neale, starting the engine, +“we’ll go over the hills and far away, but +we’ll find some trace of him, Mrs. Pinkney. +Sammy can’t have hidden himself so completely +that we cannot discover where he has been and +where he is going.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +That is exactly what they did. They flew about +the environs of Milton in a rapid search for the +truant. Wherever they stopped and made inquiries +for the first hour or so, however, they +gained no word of Sammy. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +It was three o’clock, and they were down +toward the canal on the road leading to Hampton +Mills, when they gained the first possible clue of +the missing one. And that clue was more than +twenty-four hours old. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +A storekeeper remembered a boy who answered +to Sammy’s description buying something to eat +the day before, and sitting down on the store step +to eat it. That boy carried a heavy extension-bag +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span> +and went on after he had eaten along the +Hampton Mills road. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We’ve struck his trail!” declared Neale +with satisfaction. “Don’t you think so, Mr. +Pinkney?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“How did he pay you for the things he +bought?” asked the father of the runaway, addressing +the storekeeper again. “What kind of +money did he have?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He had ten cent pieces, I remember. And he +had them tied in a handkerchief. Nicked his bank +before he started, did he?” and the man laughed. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That is exactly what he did,” admitted Mr. +Pinkney, returning hurriedly to the car. “Drive +on, Neale. I guess we are on the right trail.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span><a name='chXIV' id='chXIV'></a>CHAPTER XIV—ALMOST HAD HIM</h2> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Neale drove almost recklessly for the first few +miles after passing the roadside store; but the +eyes of all three people in the car were very wide +open and their minds observant. Anything or +anybody that might give trace of the truant +Sammy were scrutinized. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He was at that store before noon,” Agnes +shouted into Neale’s ear. “How long before he +would be hungry again?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No knowing. Pretty soon, of course,” admitted +her chum. “But I heard that storekeeper +tell Mr. Pinkney that the boy bought more than +he could eat at once and he carried the rest away +in a paper bag.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That is so,” admitted Mr. Pinkney, leaning +over the forward seat. “But he has an appetite +like a boa constrictor.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“A <em>boy</em>-constrictor,” chuckled Neale. “I’ll say +he has!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He would not likely stop anywhere along here +to buy more food, then,” Agnes said. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He could have gone off the road, however, for +a dozen different things,” said the missing boy’s +father. “That child has got more crotchets in his +head than you can shake a stick at. There is no +knowing—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hold on!” ejaculated Neale suddenly. “There +are some kids down there by that pond. Suppose +I run down and interview them?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t see anybody among them who looks +like Sammy,” observed Agnes, standing up in the +car to look. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Never mind. You go ahead, Neale. They +will talk to you more freely, perhaps, than they +will to me. Boys are that way.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I’ll try,” said Neale, and jumped out of the +car and ran down toward the roof of the old ice-house +that the afternoon before had so attracted +Sammy Pinkney—incidentally wrecking his best +trousers. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +As it chanced, Neale had seen and now interviewed +the very party of boys with whom Sammy +had previously made friends. But Neale said +nothing at first to warn these boys that he was +searching for one whom they all considered “a +good kid.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Say, fellows,” Neale began, “was this an ice-house +before it got burned down?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yep,” replied the bigger boy of the group. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And only the roof left? Crickey! What have +you chaps been doing? Sliding down it?” For +he had observed as he came down from the car two +of the smaller boys doing just that. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It’s great fun,” said the bigger boy, grinning, +perhaps at the memory of what had happened to +Sammy Pinkney’s trousers the previous afternoon. +“Want to try?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Neale grinned more broadly, and gave the shingled +roof another glance. “I bet <em>you</em> don’t slide +down it like those little fellows I just saw doing +it. How do their pants stand it?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The boys giggled at that. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Say!” the bigger one said, “there was a kid +came along yesterday that didn’t get on to that—<em>till +afterward</em>.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, ho!” chuckled Neale. “He wore ’em +right through, did he?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes, he did. And then he was sore. Said his +mother would give him fits.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Where does he live? Around here?” asked +Neale carelessly. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I never saw him before,” admitted the bigger +boy. “He was a good fellow just the same. You +looking for him?” he asked with sudden suspicion. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t know. If he’s the boy I mean he +needn’t be afraid to go home because of his torn +pants. You tell him so if you see him again.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Sure. I didn’t know he was running away. +He didn’t say anything.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Didn’t he have a bag with him—sort of a suitcase?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Didn’t see it,” replied the boy. “We all went +home to supper and he went his way.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Which way?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Could not tell you that,” the other said reflectively, +and was evidently honest about it. “He +was coming from that way,” and he pointed back +toward Milton, “when he joined us here at the +slide.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Then he probably kept on toward—What is +in that direction?” and Neale pointed at the nearest +road, the very one into which Sammy had +turned. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, that goes up through the woods,” said the +boy. “Hampton Mills is over around the pond—you +follow yonder road.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes, I know. But you think this fellow you +speak of might have gone into that by road?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He was headed that way when we first saw +him,” said the boy. “Wasn’t he, Jimmy?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Sure,” agreed the smaller boy addressed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span> +“And, Tony, I bet he <em>did</em> go that way. When I +looked back afterward I remember I saw a boy +lugging something heavy going up that road.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I didn’t see that that fellow had a bag,” argued +the bigger boy. “But he might have hid +it when he came down here.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Likely he did,” admitted Neale. “Anyway, +we will go up that road through the woods and +see.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“<em>Is</em> his mother going to give him fits for those +torn pants?” asked another of the group. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“She’ll be so glad to see him home again,” confessed +Neale, “that he could tear every pair of +pants he’s got and she wouldn’t say a word!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He made his way up the bank to the car and +reported. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t know where that woods-road leads to. +I neglected to bring a map. But it looks as though +we could get through it with the car. We’ll try, +sha’n’t we?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, do, Neale,” urged Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I guess it is as good a lead as any,” observed +Mr. Pinkney. “Somehow, I begin to feel as +though the boy had got a good way off this time. +Even this clue is almost twenty-four hours +old.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He must have stayed somewhere last night,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span> +cried Agnes suddenly. “If there is a house up +there in the woods—or beyond—we can ask.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Right you are, Aggie,” agreed Neale, starting +the car again. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Sammy Pinkney is an elusive youngster, sure +enough,” said the truant’s father. “Something +has got to stop him from running away. It costs +too much time and money to overtake him and +bring him back.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And we haven’t done that yet,” murmured +Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The car struck heavy going in the road through +the woods before they had gone very far up the +rise. In places the road was soft and had been +cut up by the wheels of heavy trucks or wagons. +And they did not pass a single house—not even a +cleared spot in the wood—on either hand. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“If he started up this way so near supper time +last evening, as those boys say,” Mr. Pinkney +ruminated, “where was he at supper time?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Here, or hereabout, I should say!” exclaimed +Neale O’Neil. “Why, it must have been pretty +dark when he got this far.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“If he really came this far,” added Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well, let us run along and see if there is a +house anywhere,” Mr. Pinkney said. “Of course, +Sammy might have slept out—” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It wouldn’t be the first time, I bet!” chuckled +Neale. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And of course there would be nothing to hurt +him in these woods?” suggested Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Nothing bigger than a rabbit, I guess,” agreed +their neighbor. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Neale increased the speed of the car again, +turned a blind corner, and struck a soft place in +the road before he could stop. Having no skidding +chains on the rear wheels of course, the car +was out of control in an instant. It slued around. +Agnes screamed. Mr. Pinkney shouted his alarm. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The car slid over the bank of the ditch beside +the road and both right wheels sank in mud and +water to the hubs. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Some pretty mess—I’ll tell the world!” +groaned Neale O’Neil, shutting off the engine, +while Agnes clung to his arm grimly to keep from +sliding out into the ditch, too. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Now, you <em>have</em> done it!” shrilled the girl. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Thanks. Many thanks. I expected you to say +that, Aggie,” he replied. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“M-mm! Well, I don’t suppose you meant +to—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No use worrying about how it was done or who +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span> +did it,” interposed Mr. Pinkney, briskly getting +out of the tonneau on the left side. “The question +is, how are we going to right the car and get +under way again?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“A truer word was never spoken,” agreed +Neale O’Neil. “Come on, Agnes. We’ll creep out +on this side, too. That’s it. Looks to me, Mr. +Pinkney, as though we should need a couple of +good, strong levers to pry up the wheels. You +and I can do that while Agnes gets in under the +wheel and manipulates the mechanism, as it +were.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You are the boss, here, Neale,” said the older +man, immediately entering the wood on the right +side of the road. “I see a stick here that looks +promising.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He passed under the broadly spreading +branches of a huge chestnut tree. There were +several of these monsters along the edge of the +wood. Mr. Pinkney suddenly shouted something, +and dropped upon his knees between two outcropping +roots of the tree. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What is it, Mr. Pinkney?” cried Agnes, running +across the road. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Their neighbor appeared, erect again. In his +hand he bore the well-remembered extension-bag +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span> +which Sammy Pinkney had so often borne away +from home upon his truant escapades. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What do you know about this?” demanded +Sammy’s father. “Here’s his bag—filled with his +possessions, by the feel of it. But where is the +boy?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He—he’s got away!” gasped Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And we almost had him,” was Neale’s +addition to the amazed remarks of the trio of +searchers. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span><a name='chXV' id='chXV'></a>CHAPTER XV—UNCERTAINTIES</h2> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The secret had now been revealed! But of +course it did not do Sammy Pinkney the least bit +of good. His extension-bag had not been stolen +at all. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Merely, when that sleepy boy had stumbled +away the night before to the spring for a drink of +water, he had not returned to the right tree for +the remainder of the night. In his excitement in +the morning, after discovering his loss, Sammy +ran about a good deal (as Uncle Rufus would +have said) “like a chicken wid de haid cut off.” +He did not manage to find the right tree at all. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The extension-bag was now in his father’s +hands. Mr. Pinkney brought it to the mired car +and opened it. There was no mistaking the contents +of the bag for anything but Sammy’s possessions. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What do you know about that?” murmured +the amazed father of the embryo pirate. He rummaged +through the conglomeration of chattels in +the bag. “No, it is not here.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What are you looking for, Mr. Pinkney?” +demanded Agnes, feeling rather serious herself. +Something might have happened to the truant. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That picture his mother spoke of,” the father +answered, with a sigh. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hoh!” exclaimed Neale O’Neil, “if the kid +thinks as much of it as Mrs. Pinkney says, he’s +got it with him. Of course.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It looks so,” admitted Mr. Pinkney. “But +why should he abandon his clothes—and all?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, maybe he hasn’t!” cried Agnes eagerly. +“Maybe he is coming back here.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You think this old tree,” said Mr. Pinkney in +doubt, “is Sammy’s headquarters?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I—don’t—know—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That wouldn’t be like Sammy,” declared +Neale, with conviction. “He always keeps moving—even +when he is stowaway on a canalboat,” +and he chuckled at the memory of that incident. +“For some reason he was chased away from here. +Or,” hitting the exact truth without knowing it, +“he tucked the bag under that tree root and forgot +where he put it.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Does that sound reasonable?” gasped Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Quite reasonable—for Sammy,” grumbled +Mr. Pinkney. “He is just so scatter-brained. But +what shall I tell his mother when I take this bag +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span> +home to her? She will feel worse than she has +before.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Maybe we will find him yet,” Agnes interposed. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That’s what we are out for,” Neale added +with confidence. “Let’s not give up hope. Why, +we’re finding clues all the time.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And now you manage to get us stuck in the +mud,” put in Agnes, giving her boy friend rather +an unfair dig. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Have a heart! How could I help it? Anyway, +we’ll get out all right. We sha’n’t have to +camp here all night, if Sammy did.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That is it,” interposed Sammy’s father. “I +wonder if he stayed here all night or if he abandoned +the bag here and kept on. Maybe the woods +were too much for his nerves,” and he laughed +rather uncertainly. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I bet Sammy was not scared,” announced +Neale, with confidence. “He is a courageous +chap. If he wasn’t, he would not start out alone +this way.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“True enough,” said Mr. Pinkney, not without +some pride. “But nevertheless it would help +some if we were sure he was here only twelve +hours ago, instead of twenty-four.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Let’s get the car out of the ditch and see if we +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span> +can go on,” Neale suggested. “I’ll get that pole +you saw, Mr. Pinkney. And I see another lever +over there.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +While Mr. Pinkney buckled the straps of the +extension-bag again and stowed the bag under +the seat, Neale brought the two sticks of small +timber which he thought would be strong enough +to lift the wheels of the stalled car out of the ditch. +But first he used the butt of one of the sticks to +knock down the edge of the bank in front of each +wheel. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You see,” he said to Agnes, “when you get +it started you want to turn the front wheels, if +you can, to the left and climb right out on to the +road. Mr. Pinkney and I will do the best we can +for you; but it is the power of the engine that +must get us out of the ditch.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I—I don’t know that I can handle it right, +Neale,” hesitated Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Sure you can. You’ve got to!” he told her. +“Come on, Mr. Pinkney! Let’s see if we can get +these sticks under the wheels on this side.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Wait a moment,” urged the man, who was +writing hastily on a page torn from his notebook. +“I must leave a note for Sammy—if perhaps he +should come back here looking for his bag.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Better not say anything about his torn trousers, +Mr. Pinkney,” giggled Agnes. “He will shy +at that.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He can tear all his clothes to pieces if he’ll +only come home and stop his mother’s worrying. +Only, the little rascal ought to be soundly +trounced just the same for all the trouble he is +causing us.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“If only I had stayed with him at that beet bed +and made sure he knew what he was doing,” +sighed Agnes, who felt somewhat condemned. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It would have been something else that sent +him off in this way, if it hadn’t been beets,” grumbled +Mr. Pinkney. “He was about due for a +break-away. I should have paid more attention +to him myself. But business was confining. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, well; we always see our mistakes when +it is too late. But that boy needs somebody’s +oversight besides his mother’s. She is always +afraid I will be too harsh with him. But she +doesn’t manage him, that is sure.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We’d better catch the rabbit before we make +the rabbit stew,” chuckled Neale O’Neil. “Sammy +is a good kid, I tell you. Only he has crazy +notions.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Pooh!” put in Agnes. “You need not talk in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span> +so old-fashioned a way. You used to have somewhat +similar ‘crazy notions’ yourself. You ran +away a couple of times.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well, did I have a real home and a mother and +father to run from?” demanded the boy. “Guess +not!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You’ve got a father now,” laughed Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But he isn’t like a real father,” sighed Neale. +“He has run away from me! I know it is necessary +for him to go back to Alaska to attend to +that mine. But I’ll be glad when he comes home +for good—or I can go to him.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Neale! You wouldn’t?” gasped the girl. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Wouldn’t what?” he asked, surprised by her +vehemence. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Go away up to Alaska?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I’d like to,” admitted the boy. “Wouldn’t +you?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh—well—if you can take me along,” rejoined +Agnes with satisfaction, “all right. But +under no other circumstances can you go, Neale +O’Neil.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span><a name='chXVI' id='chXVI'></a>CHAPTER XVI—THE DEAD END OF NOWHERE</h2> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Mr. Pinkney and Neale went to work to hoist +the motor-car into the road again. No easy nor +brief struggle was this. A dozen times Agnes +started the car and the wheels slipped off the poles +or Neale or Mr. Pinkney lost his grip. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Before long they were well bespattered with +mud (for there was considerable water in the +ditch) and so was the automobile. Neale and +their neighbor worked to the utmost of their muscular +strength, and Agnes was in tears. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Pluck up your courage, Aggie,” panted her +boy friend. “We’ll get it yet.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I just feel that it is my fault,” sobbed the girl. +“All this slipping and sliding. If I could only +just get it to start right—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Again!” cried Neale cheerfully. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +And this time the forewheels really got on solid +ground. Mr. Pinkney thrust his lever in behind +the sloughed hind wheel and blocked it from sliding +back. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Great!” yelled Neale. “Once more, Aggie!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She obeyed his order, and although the automobile +engine rattled a good deal and the car itself +plunged like a bucking broncho, they finally got all +the wheels out of the mud and on the firm road. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Crickey!” gasped Neale. “It looks like a +battlefield.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And we look as though we had been in the +battle all right,” said Mr. Pinkney. “Guess +Mamma Pinkney will have something to say +about <em>my</em> trousers when we get home, let alone +Sammy’s.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Do you suppose the car will run all right?” +asked the anxious Agnes. “I don’t know what +Ruth would say if we broke down.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“She’d say a-plenty,” returned Neale. “But +wait till I get some of this mud off me and I’ll try +her out again. By the way she bucked that last +time I should say there was nothing much the +matter with her machinery.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +This proved to be true. If anything was +strained about the mechanism it did not immediately +show up. Neale got the automobile under +way without any difficulty and they drove ahead +through the now fast darkening road. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The belt of woods was not very wide, but the +car ran slowly and when the searchers came out +upon the far side, the old shack which housed the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span> +big, red-faced woman, who had been kind to +Sammy, and her brood of children, some of whom +had been not at all kind, the place looked to be +deserted. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +In truth, the family were berry pickers and had +been gone all day (after Sammy’s adventure with +the cherry-colored calf) up in the hills after berries. +They had not yet returned for the evening +meal, and although Neale stopped the car in front +of the shack Mr. Pinkney decided Sammy would +not have remained at the abandoned place. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +And, of course, Sammy had not remained here. +After his exciting fight with Peter and Liz, and +fearing to return to the house to complain, he had +gone right on. Where he had gone was another +matter. The automobile party drove to the town +of Crimbleton, which was the next hamlet, and +there Mr. Pinkney made exhaustive inquiries regarding +his lost boy, but to no good result. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We’ll try again to-morrow, Mr. Pinkney, if +you say so,” urged Neale. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Of course we will,” agreed Agnes. “We’ll +go every day until you find him.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Their neighbor shook his head with some sadness. +“I am afraid it will do no good. Sammy +has given us the slip this time. Perhaps I would +better put the matter in the hands of a detective +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span> +agency. For myself, I should be contented to +wait until he shows up of his own volition. But +his mother—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes and Neale saw, however, that the man +was himself very desirous of getting hold of his +boy again. They made a hasty supper at the +Crimbleton Inn and then started homeward at a +good rate of speed. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +When they came up the grade toward the old +house beside the road, at the edge of the wood, the +big woman and her family had returned, made +their own supper, and gone to bed. The place +looked just as deserted as before. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“The dead-end of nowhere,” Neale called it, +and the automobile gathered speed as it went by. +So the searchers missed making inquiry at the +very spot where inquiry might have done the most +good. The trail of Sammy Pinkney was lost. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Neale O’Neil wanted to satisfy himself about +one thing. He said nothing to Agnes about it, but +after he had put up the car and locked the garage, +he walked down Main Street to Byburg’s candy +store. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +June Wildwood was always there until half +past nine, and Saturday nights until later. She +was at her post behind the sweets counter on this +occasion when Neale entered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I am glad to see you, Neale,” she said. “I’m +awfully curious.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“About that bracelet?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes,” she admitted. “What has come of it? +Anything?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Enough. Tell me,” began Neale, before she +could put in any further question, “while you +were with the Gypsies did you hear anything +about Queen Alma?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Queen Zaliska. I was Queen Zaliska. They +dressed me up and stained my face to look the +part.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, I know all about that,” Neale returned. +“But this Queen Alma was some ancient lady. +She lived three hundred years ago.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Goodness! How you talk, Neale O’Neil. Of +course I don’t know anything about such a +person.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Those Gypsies you were with never talked of +her?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I didn’t hear them. I never learned much of +the language they use among themselves.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well, we got a tip,” said the boy, “that the +bracelet belonged to this Queen Alma, and that +there is a row among the Gypsies over the ownership +of it.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You don’t tell me!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I am telling you. We heard so. Say, is that +Big Jim a Spaniard? A Spanish Gypsy, I mean?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t know. Maybe. He looks like a Spaniard, +or a Mexican, or an Italian.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes. I thought he did. He comes of some +Latin race, anyway. What is his last name?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why—I—I am not sure that I know.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Is it Costello? Did you hear that name while +you were with the Gypsies, June?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Some of them are named Costello. It is a +family name among them I guess. And about that +Jim. Do you know that I saw him yesterday +driving down Main Street in an automobile?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You don’t mean it? Gypsies are going to become +flivver traders instead of horse swappers, +are they?” and Neale laughed. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, it was a big, seven-passenger car,” said +June. “Those Gypsies have money, if they want +to spend it.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Did you ever hear of a Gypsy junkman?” +chuckled Neale. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Of course not. Although I guess junkmen +make good money nowadays,” drawled June +Wildwood, laughing too. “You are a funny boy, +Neale O’Neil. Do you want to know anything +else?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Lots of things. But I guess you cannot tell +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span> +me much more about the Gypsies that would be +pertinent to the bracelet business. We hear that +the Costello Gypsies are fighting over the possession +of the heirloom—the bracelet, you know. +That is why one bunch of them wanted to get it off +their hands for a while—and so gave it into the +keeping of Tess and Dot.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Mercy!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Does that seem improbable to you, June?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No-o. Not much. They might. It makes me +think that maybe the Gypsies have been watching +the old Corner House and know all about the +Kenways.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“They might easily do that. You know, they +might know us all from that time away back when +we brought you home from Pleasant Cove with us. +This is some of the same tribe you were with—sure +enough!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I know it,” sighed June Wildwood. “I’ve +been scared a little about them too. But for my +own sake. I haven’t dared tell Rosa; but pap +comes down here to the store for me every evening +and beaus me home. I feel safer.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“The bracelet business has nothing to do with +you, of course?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Of course not. But those Gypsies might have +some evil intent about Ruth and her sisters.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Guess they are just trying to use them for a +convenience. While that bracelet is in the Corner +House no other claimant but those Gypsy women +are likely to get hold of it. Believe me, it is a +puzzle,” he concluded. “I guess we will have to +put it up to Mr. Howbridge, sure enough.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh! The Kenways’s lawyer?” cried June. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Their guardian. Sure enough. That is what +we will have to do.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +But when Neale and Agnes Kenway, after an +early breakfast, hurried downtown to Mr. Howbridge’s +office the next morning to tell the lawyer +all about the Gypsies and Queen Alma’s bracelet, +they made a surprising discovery. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Mr. Howbridge had left town the evening before +on important business. He might not return +for a week. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span><a name='chXVII' id='chXVII'></a>CHAPTER XVII—RUTH BEGINS TO WORRY</h2> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Oakhurst, in the mountains, was a very lovely +spot. Besides the hotel where Luke Shepard had +worked and where he had met with his accident, +there were bungalows and several old-fashioned +farmhouses where boarders were received. There +was a lake, fine golf links, bridlepaths through +the woods, and mountains to climb. It was a popular +if quiet resort. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Ruth and Cecile Shepard had rooms in one of +the farmhouses, for the hotel was expensive. Besides, +the farmer owned a beautifully shaded lawn +overlooking the lake and the girls could sit there +under the trees while the invalid, as they insisted +upon calling Luke, reclined on a swinging cot. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Believe me!” Cecile often insisted, “I will +never send another telegram as long as I live. I +cannot forgive myself for making such a mess of +it. But then, if I hadn’t done so, you would not +be here now, Ruthie.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Isn’t that a fact?” agreed her brother. “You +are all right, Sis! I am for you, strong.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Ruth laughed. Yet there were worried lines between +her eyes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It is all right,” she murmured. “I might have +come in any case—for Mr. Howbridge advised it +by this letter that they remailed to me. But I +should not have left in such haste, and I should +have left somebody besides Mrs. McCall to look +after the girls.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Pooh!” ejaculated Luke. “What is the matter +with Agnes?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That is just it,” laughed Ruth again, but +shaking her head too. “It is Agnes, and what she +may do, that troubles me more than anything else.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Goodness me! She is a big girl,” declared +Cecile. “And she has lots of sense.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“She usually succeeds in hiding her good sense, +then,” rejoined Ruth. “Of course she can take +care of herself. But will she give sufficient attention +to the little ones. That is the doubt that +troubles me.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well, you just can’t go away now!” wailed +Cecile. “You have got to stay till the doctor says +we can move Luke. I can’t take him back alone.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Now, don’t make me out so badly off. I am +lying here like a poor log because that sawbones +and you girls make me. But I know I could get +up and play baseball.” +</p> +<div><a name='fig3' id='fig3'></a></div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i004' id='i004'></a> +<img src="images/illus-158.jpg" alt="The girls could sit under the tree while Luke reclined on a swinging cot." title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>The girls could sit under the tree while<br/>Luke reclined on a swinging cot.</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span></div> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Don’t you dare!” cried his sister. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You would not be so unwise,” said Ruth +promptly. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“All right. Then you stop worrying, Ruth,” +the young fellow said. “Otherwise I shall ‘take +up my bed and walk’—you see! This lying around +like an ossified man is a nuisance, and it’s absurd, +anyway.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Ruth had immediately written to Mr. Howbridge +asking him to look closely after family affairs +at the Corner House. Had she known the +lawyer was not at home when her letter arrived +in Milton she certainly would have started back +by the very next train. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She wrote Mrs. McCall, too, for exact news. +And naturally she poured into her letter to Agnes +all the questions and advice of which she could +think. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes was too busy when that letter arrived to +answer it at all. Things were happening at the +old Corner House at that time of which Ruth had +never dreamed. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Ruth was really glad to be with Cecile and +Luke in the mountains. And she tried to throw +off her anxiety. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Luke insisted that his sister and Ruth should +go over to the hotel to dance in the evening when +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span> +he had to go to bed, as the doctor ordered. He +had become acquainted with most of the hotel +guests before his injury, and the young people +liked Luke Shepard. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +They welcomed his sister and Ruth as one of +themselves, and the two girls had the finest kind +of a time. At least, Cecile did, and she said that +Ruth might have had, had she not been thinking +of the home-folk so much. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Several days passed, and although Ruth heard +nothing from home save a brief and hurried note +from Agnes, telling of their unsuccessful search +for Sammy—and nothing much else—the older +Kenway girl began to feel that her anxiety had +been unnecessary. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Then came Mrs. McCall’s labored letter. The +old Scotchwoman was never an easy writer. And +her thoughts did not run to the way of clothing +facts in readable English. She was plain and +blunt. At least a part of her letter immediately +made Ruth feel that she was needed at home, and +that even her interest in Luke Shepard should +not detain her longer at Oakhurst. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We have got to have another watchdog. Old +Tom Jonah is too old; it is my opinion. I mind he +is getting deaf, or something, or he wouldn’t have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span> +let that man come every night and stare in at the +window. Faith, he is a nuisance—the man, I +mean, Ruth, not the old dog. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I have spoke to the police officer on the beat; +but Mr. Howbridge being out of town I don’t know +what else to do about that man. And such a foxy +looking man as he is! +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Neale O’Neil, who is a good lad, I’m saying, +and no worse than other boys of his age for sure, +offers to watch by night. But I have not allowed +it. He and Aggie talk of Gypsies, and they show +me that silver bracelet—a bit barbarous thing that +you remember the children had to play with—and +say the dark man who comes to the window nights +is a Gypsy. I think he is a plain tramp, that is +all, my lass. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Don’t let these few lines worry you. Linda +goes to bed with the stove poker every night, and +Uncle Rufus says he has oiled up your great +uncle’s old shotgun. But I know that gun has no +hammer to it, so I am not afraid of the weapon +at all. I just want to make that black-faced man +go away from the house and mind his own business. +It is a nuisance he is.” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I must go home—oh, I must!” Ruth said to +Cecile as soon as she had read this effusion from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span> +the old housekeeper. “Just think! A man spying +on them—and a Gypsy!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Pooh! it can’t be anything of importance,” +scoffed Cecile. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It must be. Think! I told you about the +Gypsy bracelet. There must be more of importance +connected with that than we thought.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She had already told Luke and Cecile about the +mystery of the silver ornament. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why, I thought you had told Mr. Howbridge +about it,” Cecile said. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I did not. I really forgot to when the news +of Luke’s illness came,” and Ruth blushed. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That quite drove everything else out of your +head, did it?” laughed the other girl. “But now +why let it bother you? Of course Mr. Howbridge +will attend to things—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But he seems to be away,” murmured Ruth. +“Evidently Mrs. McCall and Agnes have not been +able to reach him. Oh, Cecile! I must really go +home.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Then you will have to come back,” declared +Cecile Shepard. “I could not possibly travel with +Luke alone.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The physician had confided more to the girls +than to Luke himself about the young man’s physical +condition. The medical man feared some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span> +spinal trouble if Luke did not remain quiet and lie +flat on his back for some time to come. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +But the day following Ruth’s receipt of Mrs. +McCall’s anxiety-breeding letter, Dr. Moline +agreed to the young man’s removal. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But only in a compartment. You must take +the afternoon train on which you can engage a +compartment. He must lie at ease all the way. I +will take him to the station in my car. And have +a car to meet him when you get to the Milton +station.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The first of these instructions Ruth was able to +follow faithfully. The cost of such a trip was not +to be considered. She would not even allow Luke +and Cecile to speak about it. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Ruth had her own private bank account, arranged +for and supervised, it was true, by Mr. +Howbridge, and she prided herself upon doing +business in a businesslike way. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Just before they boarded the train at Oakhurst +station she telegraphed home that they were coming +and for Neale to meet them with the car, late +though their arrival would be. If on time, the +train would stop at Milton just after midnight. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +When that telegram arrived at the old Corner +House it failed to make much of a disturbance in +the pool of the household existence. And for a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span> +very good reason. So much had happened there +during the previous few hours that the advent of +the King and Queen of England (and this Mrs. +McCall herself said) would have created a very +small “hooroo.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +As for Neale O’Neil’s getting out the car and +going down to the station to meet Ruth and her +friends when they arrived, that seemed to be quite +impossible. The coming of the telegram was at an +hour when already the Kenway automobile was +far away from Milton, and Neale and Agnes in it +were having high adventure. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span><a name='chXVIII' id='chXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XVIII—THE JUNKMAN AGAIN</h2> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +When Ruth started home with Luke and Cecile +Shepard several days had elapsed since Neale +O’Neil and Agnes had discovered that Mr. Howbridge +was out of town. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The chief clerk at the lawyer’s office had little +time to give to the youthful visitors, for just then +he had his hands full with a caller whom Neale +and Agnes had previously found was a person not +easily to be pacified. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“There is a crazy man in here,” grumbled the +clerk. “I don’t know what he means. He says he +‘comes from Kenway,’ and there is something +about Queen Alma and her bracelet. What do you +know about this, Miss Kenway?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, my prophetic soul!” gasped Neale O’Neil. +“Costello, the junkman!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Dear, me! We thought we could see Mr. Howbridge +before that man came.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Tell me what it means,” urged the clerk. +“Then I will know what to say to the lunatic.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I guess he’s a nut all right,” admitted Neale. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span> +He told the lawyer’s clerk swiftly all they knew +about the junkman, and all they knew about the +silver bracelet. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“All right. It is something for Mr. Howbridge +to attend to himself,” declared the clerk. “You +hang on to that bracelet and don’t let anybody +have it. I’ll try to shoo off this fellow. Anyway, +it may not belong to his family at all. I’ll hold +him here till you two get away.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Neale and Agnes were glad to escape contact +with the junkman again. He was too vehement. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He’ll walk right in and search the house for +the thing,” grumbled Neale. “We can’t have +him frightening the children.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And I don’t want to be frightened myself,” +added Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +They hurried home, and all that day, every time +the bell rang or she heard a voice at the side door, +the girl felt a sudden qualm. “Wish we had never +advertised that bracelet at all,” she confessed in +secret. “Dear, me! I wonder what Ruth will +say?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Nevertheless she failed to take her older sister +into her confidence regarding Queen Alma’s +bracelet when she wrote to her. She felt quite +convinced that Ruth would not approve of what +she and Neale had done, so why talk about it? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +This was the attitude Agnes maintained. Perhaps +the whole affair would be straightened out +before Ruth came back. And otherwise, she considered, +everything was going well at the Corner +House in Milton. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +It was Miss Ann Titus who evinced interest +next in the “lost and found” advertisement. Miss +Ann Titus was the woman whom Dot called “such +a fluid speaker” and who said so many “and-so’s” +that “ain’t-so’s.” In other words, Miss +Titus, the dressmaker, was a very gossipy person, +although she was not intentionally unkind. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She came in this afternoon, “stopping by” as +she termed it, from spending a short sewing day +with Mrs. Pease, a Willow Street neighbor of the +Corner House girls. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And I must say that Mrs. Pease, for a woman +of her age, has young idees about dress,” Miss +Titus confided to Mrs. McCall and Agnes, who +were in the sewing room. Aunt Sarah “couldn’t +a-bear” Miss Ann Titus, so they did not invite +the seamstress to go upstairs. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes, her idees is some young,” repeated Miss +Titus. “But then, nowadays if you foller the +styles in the fashion papers nobody can tell you +and your grandmother apart, back to! Skirts are +so skimpy—and <em>short</em>!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Miss Titus fanned herself rapidly, and allowed +her emphasis to suggest her own opinion of modern +taste in dress. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Of course, Mrs. Pease is slim and ain’t lost +all her good looks; but it does seem to me if I was +a married woman,” she simpered here a little, for +Miss Titus had by no means given up all hope of +entering the wedded state, “I should consider my +husband’s feelings. I would not go on the street +looking below my knees as though I was twelve +year old instead of thirty-two.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Maybe Mr. Pease likes her to look young,” +suggested Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hech! Hech!” clucked Mrs. McCall placidly. +“Thirty-twa is not so very auld. Not as we live +these days, at any rate.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But think of the example she sets her children,” +sniffed Miss Titus, bridling. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Tut, tut! How much d’you expect Margie and +Holly Pease is influenced by their mother’s style +o’ dress?” exclaimed the housekeeper. “The twa +bairns scarce know much about that.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I guess that is so,” chimed in Agnes. “And +I think she is a pretty woman and dresses nicely. +So there!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Ah, you young things cannot be expected to +think as I do,” smirked Miss Titus. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I take that as a compliment, my dear,” said +the housekeeper comfortably. “And I never expect +tae be vairy old until I die. Still and all, I +am some older than Agnes.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That reminds me,” said Miss Titus, more +briskly (though it did not remind her, for she had +come into the Corner House for the special purpose +of broaching the subject that she now announced), +“which of you Kenways is it has found +a silver bracelet?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Now, <em>that</em> is Agnes’ affair,” chuckled Mrs. +McCall. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh! It is not Ruth that advertised?” queried +the curious Miss Titus. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Na, na! Tell it her, Agnes,” said the housekeeper. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +But Agnes was not sure she wished to describe +to this gossipy seamstress all the incidents connected +with Queen Alma’s bracelet. She only +said: +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Of course, you do not know anybody who has +lost such a bracelet?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“How can I tell till I have seen it?” demanded +Miss Titus. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well, we have about decided that until somebody +comes who describes the bracelet and can +explain how and where it was lost that we had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span> +better not display it at all,” Agnes said, with +more firmness than was usual with her. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh!” sniffed Miss Titus. “I hope you do not +think that <em>I</em> have any interest—any personal interest—in +inquiring about it?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“If I thought it was yours, Miss Titus, I would +let you see it immediately,” Agnes hastened to +assure her. “But of course—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“There was a bracelet lost right on this street,” +said Miss Titus earnestly, meaning Willow Street +and pointing that way, “that never was recovered +to my knowledge.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh! You don’t mean it?” cried the puzzled +girl. “Of course, we don’t <em>know</em> that this one +belongs to any of those Gypsies—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I should say not!” clucked Miss Titus. “The +bracelet I mean was worn by Sarah Turner. She +and I went together regular when we were girls. +And going to prayer meeting one night, walking +along here by the old Corner House, Sarah +dropped her bracelet.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But—but!” gasped Agnes, “that must have +been some time ago, Miss Titus.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It is according to how you compute time,” the +dressmaker said. “Sarah and I were about of an +age. And she isn’t more than forty years old +right now!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t think this bracelet we have is the one +your friend lost,” Agnes said faintly, but confidently. +She wanted to laugh but did not dare. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“How do you know?” demanded Miss Ann +Titus in her snappy way—like the biting off of a +thread when she was at work. “I should know +it, even so long after it was lost, I assure you.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why—how?” asked the Corner House girl +curiously. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“By the scratches on it,” declared Miss Titus. +“Sarah’s brother John made them with his +pocketknife—on the inside of the bracelet—to see +if it was real silver. Oh! he was a bad boy—as +bad as Sammy Pinkney. And what do you think +of <em>his</em> running away again?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes was glad the seamstress changed the +subject right here. It seemed to her as though +she had noticed scratches on the bracelet the +Gypsies had placed in the basket the children +bought. Could it be possible— +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No! That is ridiculous!” Agnes told herself. +“It could not be possible that a bracelet lost forty +years ago on Willow Street should turn up at this +late date. And, having found it, why should those +Gypsy women give it to Tess and Dot? There +would be no sense in that.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Yet, when the talkative Miss Titus had gone +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span> +Agnes went to the room the little folks kept their +playthings and doll families in, and picked up the +Alice-doll which chanced that day to be wearing +the silver band. She removed it from the doll and +took it to the window where the light was better. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Yes! It was true as she had thought. There +were several crosswise scratches on the inside of +the circlet. They might easily have been made by +a boy’s jackknife. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I declare! Who really knows where this +bracelet came from, and who actually owns it? +Maybe it is not Queen Alma’s ornament after all. +Dear, me! this Kenway family is forever getting +mixed up in difficulties that positively have nothing +to do with <em>us</em>. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“The silly old bracelet! Why couldn’t those +Gypsy women have sold that basket to Margaret +and Holly Pease, or to some other little girls instead +of to our Tess and Dot. Mrs. McCall says +that some people seem to attract trouble, just as +lightning-rods attract lightning, and I guess the +Kenways are some of those people!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Neale did not come over again that day, so she +had nobody to discuss this new slant in the matter +with. And if Agnes could not “talk out loud” +about her troubles, she was apt to grow irritable. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span> +At least, the little girls said after supper that she +was cross. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Ruth doesn’t talk that way to us,” declared +Tess, quite hurt, and gathering up her playthings +from the various chairs in the sitting room where +the family usually gathered in the evenings. “I +don’t think I should like her to be away all the +time.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +This was Tess’s polite way of criticising Agnes. +But Dot was not so hampered by politeness. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Crosspatch!” she exclaimed. “That’s just +what you are, Aggie Kenway.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +And she started for bed in quite a huff. Agnes +was glad, a few minutes later, that the two smaller +girls had gone upstairs, even if they had gone +away in this unhappy state of mind. Mrs. McCall +had come in and sat down at some mending +and the room was very quiet. Suddenly a noise +outside on the porch made Agnes raise her head +and look at the nearest window. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What is the matter wi’ ye, lassie?” asked +Mrs. McCall, startled. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Did you hear that?” whispered the girl, staring +at the window. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The shade was not drawn down to the sill, and +the curtains were the very thinnest of scrim. At +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span> +the space of four inches below the shade Agnes +saw a white splotch against the pane. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh! See! A face!” gasped Agnes in three +smothered shrieks. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hech, mon! Such a flibbertigibbet as the lass +is.” Mrs. McCall adjusted her glasses and +stared, first at the frightened girl, then at the window. +But she, too, saw the face. “What can the +matter be?” she demanded, half rising. “Is that +Neale O’Neil up tae some o’ his jokes?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, no, Mrs. Mac! It’s not Neale,” half +sobbed Agnes. “I know who it is. It’s that awful +junkman!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“A junkman?” repeated Mrs. McCall. “At +this time o’ night? We’ve naethin’ tae sellit him. +The impudence!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She rose, quite determined to drive the importunate +junkman away. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span><a name='chXIX' id='chXIX'></a>CHAPTER XIX—THE HOUSE IS HAUNTED</h2> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why do ye fash yoursel’ so?” demanded Mrs. +McCall in growing wonder and exasperation. +“Let me see the foolish man.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She approached the window and raised the +shade sharply. Then she hoisted the sash itself. +But Costello, the junkman, was gone. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“There is naebody here,” she complained, +looking out on the side porch. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But he <em>was</em> there! You saw him,” faintly +declared Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He was nae ghost, if that’s what you mean,” +said the housekeeper dryly. “But what and who +is he? A junkman? How do you come to know +junkmen, lassie?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I only know that junkman,” explained Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Aye?” The housekeeper’s eyes as well as her +voice was sharp. “And when did you make his +acquaintance? Costello, d’you say?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“So he said his name was. He—he is one of +the Gypsies, I do believe!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Gypsies! The idea! Is the house surrounded +by Gypsies?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t know, Mrs. McCall,” said Agnes +faintly. “I only know they are giving us a lot +of trouble.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Who are?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“The Gypsies.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hear the lass!” exclaimed the troubled housekeeper. +“Who ever heard the like? Why should +Gypsies give us any trouble? Is it that bit bracelet +the bairns play wi’? Then throw it out and +let the Gypsies have it.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But that would not be right, would it, Mrs. +McCall?” demanded the troubled girl. “If—if +the bracelet belongs to them—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hech! To this junkman?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He claims it,” confessed Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Tut, tut! What is going on here that I do +not know about?” demanded the Scotch woman +with deeper interest. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She closed the window, drew the shade again, +and returned to her seat. She stared at Agnes +rather sternly over her glasses. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Come now, my lass,” said the housekeeper, +“what has been going on so slyly here? I never +heard of any Costello, junkman or not. Who is +he? What does he want, peering in at a body’s +windows at night?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes told the whole story then—and managed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> +to tell it clearly enough for the practical woman +to gain a very good idea of the whole matter. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Of course,” was her comment, grimly said, +“you and that Neale could not let well enough +alone. You never can. If you had not advertised +the bit bracelet, this junkman would not have +troubled you.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But we thought it ought to be advertised,” +murmured Agnes in defense. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Aye, aye! Ye thought mooch I’ve nae doot. +And to little good purpose. Well, ’tis a matter +for Mr. Howbridge now, sure enough. And what +he’ll say—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But I hope that Costello does not come to the +house again,” ventured the girl, in some lingering +alarm. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You or Neale go to Mr. Howbridge’s clerk in +the morning and tell him. He should tell the +police of this crazy man. A Gypsy, too, you +say?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I think he must be. The bracelet seems to be +a bone of contention between two branches of the +Gypsy tribe. If it belonged to that old Queen +Alma—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Fiddle-faddle!” exclaimed the housekeeper. +“Who ever heard of a queen among those dirty +Gypsies? ’Tis foolishness.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The fact that Costello, the junkman, was lingering +about the old Corner House was not to be denied. +They saw him again before bedtime. Uncle +Rufus had gone to bed and Linda was so easily +frightened that Mrs. McCall did not want to +tell her. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +So the housekeeper grabbed a broom and +started out on the side porch with the avowed +intention of “breaking the besom over the chiel’s +head!” But the lurker refused to be caught and +darted away into the shadows. And all without +making a sound, or revealing in any way what +his intention might be. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Mrs. McCall and the trembling Agnes went all +about the house, locking each lower window, and +of course all the doors. Tom Jonah, the old Newfoundland +dog, slept out of doors these warm +nights, and sometimes wandered away from the +premises. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We ought to have Buster, Sammy Pinkney’s +bulldog, over here. Then that horrid man would +not dare come into the yard,” Agnes said. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You might as well turn that old billy-goat +loose,” sniffed Mrs. McCall. “He’d do little +more harm than that bull pup—and nae more +good, either.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +They went to bed—earlier than usual, perhaps. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span> +And that may be the reason why Agnes could not +sleep. She considered the possibility of Costello’s +climbing up the porch posts to the roof, and so +reaching the second story windows. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“If he is going to haunt the house like this,” +Agnes declared to the housekeeper in the morning, +“let us make Neale come here and stay at +night.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That lad?” returned the housekeeper, who +had no very exalted opinion of boys in any case—no +more than had Ruth. “Haven’t we all troubles +enough, I want to know? This is a case for the +police. You go tell Mr. Howbridge’s clerk about +the Gypsy, that is what you do.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +But Agnes would not do even that without taking +Neale into her confidence. Neale at once was +up in arms when he heard of the lurking junkman. +He declared he would come over and hide in the +closet on the Kenways’ back porch and try to +catch the man if he appeared again at night. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He is a very strong man, Neale,” objected +Agnes. “And he might have a knife, too. You +know, those Gypsies are awfully fierce-tempered.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t know that he is,” objected Neale. “He +looked to me like just plain crazy.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well, you come down to the office with me,” +commanded Agnes. “I don’t even want to meet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span> +that excitable Costello man on the street when I +am alone.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I suppose you are scared, Aggie. But I don’t +think he would really hurt you. Come on!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +So they went down to Mr. Howbridge’s office +again and interviewed the clerk, telling him first +of all of the appearance of the junkman the night +before. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I had fairly to drive him out of these offices,” +said the clerk. “He is of a very excitable temperament, +to say the least. But I did not think +there was any real harm in him.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Just the same,” Neale objected, “he wants to +keep away from the house and not frighten folks +at night.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, we will soon stop that,” said Mr. Howbridge’s +representative. “I will report it to the +police.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But perhaps he does not mean any harm,” +faltered Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I do not think he does,” said the man. +“Nevertheless, we will warn him.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +This promise relieved Agnes a good deal. She +was tender-hearted and she did not wish the junkman +arrested. But when evening came and he +once more stared in at the windows, and tapped +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> +on the panes, and wandered around and around +the house— +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well, this is too much!” cried the girl, when +Neale and Mrs. McCall both ran out to try to +apprehend the marauder. “I do wish we had a +telephone. I am going to <em>beg</em> Ruth to have one +put in just as soon as she comes back. We could +call the police and they would catch that man.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Perhaps the police, had they been informed, +might have caught Costello. But Mrs. McCall +and Neale did not. The latter remained until the +family went to bed and then the boy did a little +lurking in the bushes on his own account. But +he did not spy the strange man again. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +In the morning, without saying anything to the +Kenway family about it, Neale O’Neil set out to +find Costello, the junkman. He certainly was not +afraid of the man by daylight. He had had experience +with him. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +From Mr. Howbridge’s clerk he had already +obtained the address the junkman had given when +he was at the office. The place was down by the +canal in the poorer section of the town, of +course. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +There were several cellars and first-floors of old +houses given up to ragpickers and dealers in junk +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span> +of all kinds. After some inquiry among a people +who quite evidently were used to dodging the +answering of incriminating questions, Neale +learned that there had been a junkman living in +a certain room up to within a day or two before, +whose name was Costello. But he had disappeared. +Oh, yes! Neale’s informant was quite +sure that Costello had gone away for good. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But he had a horse and wagon. He had a +business of his own. Where has he gone?” demanded +the boy. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He was gone. That was all these people would +tell him. They pointed out the old shed where +Costello had kept his horse. Was it a good horse? +It was a good looking horse, with smiles which +seemed to indicate that Costello was a true Gypsy +and was not above “doctoring” a horse into a +deceiving appearance of worthiness. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He drove away with that horse. He did not +say where he was going. I guess he go to make +a sale, eh? He will come back with some old plug +that he make look fine, eh?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +This was the nearest to real information that +Neale could obtain, and this from a youth who +worked for one of the established junk dealers. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +So Neale had to give up the inquiry as useless. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> +When he came back to the old Corner House he +confessed to Agnes: +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He is hiding somewhere, and coming around +here after dark. Wish I had a shotgun—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Neale! How wicked!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Loaded with rock-salt,” grinned the boy. “A +dose of that might do the Gyp. a world of good.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span><a name='chXX' id='chXX'></a>CHAPTER XX—PLOTTERS AT WORK</h2> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The adventures of the Corner House girls and +their friends did not usually include anything +very terrible. Perhaps there was no particular +peril threatened by Costello, the Gypsy junkman, +who was lurking about the premises at night. +Just the same, Agnes Kenway was inclined to do +what Mrs. McCall suggested and throw the silver +bracelet out upon the ash heap. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Of course they had no moral right to do that, +and the housekeeper’s irritable suggestion was +not to be thought of for a serious moment. Yet +Agnes would have been glad to get rid of the +responsibility connected with possession of Queen +Alma’s ornament. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“If it is that Costello heirloom!” she said. +“Maybe after all it belongs to Miss Ann Titus’s +friend, Sarah Whatshername. Goodness! I wonder +how many other people will come to claim +the old thing. I do wish Ruth would return.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Just so you could hand the responsibility over +to her,” accused Neale. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“M-mm. Well?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We ought to hunt up those Gypsies—‘Beeg +Jeem’ and his crowd—and get their side of the +story,” declared Neale. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No! I will not!” cried Agnes. “I have met +all the Gypsies I ever want to meet.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +But within the hour she met another. She was +in the kitchen, and Linda and Mrs. McCall were +both in the front of the house, cleaning. There +came a timid-sounding rap on the door. Agnes +unthinkingly threw it open. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +A slender girl stood there—a girl younger +than Agnes herself. This stranger was very +ragged, not at all clean looking, and very brown. +She had flashing white teeth and flashing black +eyes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes actually started back when she saw her +and suppressed a scream. For she instantly knew +the stranger was one of the Gypsy tribe. That +she seemed to be alone was the only thing that +kept Agnes from slamming the door again right +in the girl’s face. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Will the kind lady give me something to eat?” +whined the beggar. “I am hungry. I eat nothing +all the day.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes was doubtful of the truth of this. The +dark girl did not look ill-fed. But she had an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span> +appearance of need just the same; and it was a +rule of the Corner House household never to turn +a hungry person away. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Stay there on the mat,” Agnes finally said. +“Don’t come in. I will see what I can find for +you.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes, Ma’am,” said the girl. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Haven’t you had any breakfast?” asked +Agnes, moving toward the pantry, and her sympathies +becoming excited. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No, Ma’am. And no supper last night. Nobody +give me nothing.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well,” said Agnes, with more warmth, expanding +to this tale of woe, as was natural, “I +will see what I can find.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She found a plate heaped with bread and meat +and a wedge of cake, which she brought to the +screen door. The girl had stood there motionless, +only her black eyes roved about the kitchen and +seemed to mark everything in it. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Sit down there on the steps and eat it,” said +Agnes, passing the plate through a narrow opening, +as she might have handed food into the cage +of an animal at a menagerie. She really was half +afraid of the girl just because she looked so much +like a Gypsy. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The stranger ate as though she was quite as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span> +ravenously hungry as she had claimed to be. +There could be no doubt that the food disappeared +with remarkable celerity. She sat for a moment +or two after she had eaten the last crumb with the +plate in her lap. Then she rose and brought it +timidly to the door. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Did you have enough?” asked Agnes, feeling +less afraid now. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, yes, Lady! It was so nice,” and the girl +flashed her teeth in a beaming smile. She was +quite a pretty girl—if she had only been clean +and decently dressed. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She handed the plate to Agnes, and then turned +and ran out of the yard and down the street as +fast as she could run. Agnes stared after her in +increased amazement. Why had she run away? +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“If she is a Gypsy—Well, they are queer +people, that is sure. Oh! What is this?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Her fingers had found something on the under +side of the plate. She turned it up and saw a +soiled piece of paper sticking there. Agnes, wondering, +if no longer alarmed, drew the paper from +the plate, turned it over, and saw that some words +were scrawled in blue pencil on the paper. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Goodness me! More mysteries!” gasped the +Corner House girl. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Briefly and plainly the message read: <em>Do not</em> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span> +<em>give the bracelet to Miguel. He is a thief.</em> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes sat down and stared almost breathlessly +at the paper. That it was a threatening command +from one crowd of Gypsies or the other, she was +sure. But whether it was from Big Jim’s crowd +or from Costello, the junkman, she did not know. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Her first thought, after she had digested the +matter for a few moments, was to run with the +paper to Mrs. McCall. But Mrs. McCall was not +at all sympathetic about this bracelet matter. She +was only angry with the Gypsies, and, perhaps, a +little angry with Agnes for having unwittingly +added to the trouble by putting the advertisement +in the paper. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Neale, after all, could be her only confident; +and, making sure that no other dark-visaged person +was in sight about the house, the girl ran +down the long yard beyond the garden to the +stable and Billy Bumps’ quarters, and there +climbed the board fence that separated the Kenway +yard from that of Con Murphy, the cobbler. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hoo, hoo! Hoo, hoo!” Agnes called, looking +over the top rail of the fence. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hoo, hoo, yerself!” croaked a voice. “I’d +have yez know we kape no owls on these +premises.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The bent figure of Mr. Murphy, always busy at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span> +his bench, was visible through the back window of +his shop. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Is it that young yahoo called Neale O’Neil +that yez want, Miss Aggie?” added the smiling +cobbler. “If so—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +But Neale O’Neil appeared just then to answer +to the summons of his girl friend. He had been +to the store, and he tumbled all his packages on +Con’s bench to run out into the yard to greet +Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What’s happened now?” he cried, seeing in +the girl’s face that something out of the ordinary +troubled her. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Neale! what do you think?” she gasped. +“There’s been another of them at the house.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Not one of those Gypsies?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I believe she was.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh! A <em>she</em>!” said the boy, much relieved. +“Well, she didn’t bite you, of course?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Come here and look at this,” commanded his +friend. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Neale went to the fence, climbed up and took +the paper that Agnes had found stuck to the plate +on which she had placed the food for the Gypsy +girl. When he had read the abrupt and unsigned +message, Neale began to grow excited, too. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Where did you get this?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes told him about it. Of course, the hungry +girl had been a messenger from one party of +Gypsies or the other. Which? was Agnes’ eager +question. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Guess I can answer that,” Neale said gravely. +“It does look as though things were getting complicated. +I bet this girl you fed is one of Big +Jim’s bunch.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“How can you be so positive?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“There are probably only two parties of +Gypsies fighting over the possession of that old +bracelet. Now, I learned down there in that junk +neighborhood that Costello—the Costello who is +bothering us—is called Miguel. They are all +Costellos—Big Jim’s crowd and all. June Wildwood +says so. They distinguish our junkman +from themselves by calling him by his first name. +Therefore—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, of course I see,” sighed Agnes. “It is a +terrible mess, Neale! I do wish Mr. Howbridge +would get back. Or that the police would find that +junkman and shut him up. Or—or that Ruthie +would come home!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, don’t be a baby, Aggie!” ejaculated +Neale. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Who is the baby, I want to know?” flashed +back the girl. “I’m not!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Then pluck up your spirits and don’t turn on +the sprinkler,” said the slangy youth. “Why, +this is nothing to cry about. When it is all over +we shall be looking back at the mystery as something +great in our young lives.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You can try to laugh if you want to,” snapped +Agnes. “But being haunted by a junkman, and +getting notes from Gypsies like that! Huh! who +wouldn’t be scared? Why, we don’t know what +those people might do to us if we give up the +bracelet to the wrong person.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It doesn’t belong to any of the Gypsies, +perhaps.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That is exactly it!” she cried. “Maybe, after +all, it is the property of Miss Ann Titus’ friend, +Sarah.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And was lost somewhere on Willow Street—about +where your garage now stands—forty years +ago!” scoffed Neale. “Well, you are pretty soft, +Agnes Kenway.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +This naturally angered the girl, and she pouted +and got down from the fence without replying. +As she went back up the yard she saw Mrs. Pinkney, +with her head tied up with a towel, shaking +a dustcloth at one of her front windows. It at +least changed the current of the girl’s thought. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Mrs. Pinkney!” she cried, running across +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span> +the street to speak to Sammy’s mother, “have +you heard anything?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“About Sammy? Not a word,” answered the +woman. “I have to keep working all the time, +Agnes Kenway, or I should go insane. I know I +should! I have cleaned this whole house, from +attic to cellar, three times since Sammy ran +away.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why, Mrs. Pinkney! If you don’t go insane—and +I don’t believe you will—I am sure you will +overwork and be ill.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I must keep doing. I must keep going. If I +sit down to think I imagine the most horrible +things happening to the dear child. It is awful!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes knew that never before had the woman +been so much disturbed by her boy’s absences +from home. It seemed as though she really had +lost control of herself, and the Corner House girl +was quite worried over Mrs. Pinkney. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“If we could only help you and Mr. Pinkney,” +said Agnes doubtfully. “Do you suppose it +would do any good to go off in the car again—Neale +and me and your husband—to look for +Sammy?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Mr. Pinkney is so tied down by his business +that he cannot go just now,” she sighed. “And +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span> +he has put the search into the hands of an agency. +I did not want the police to get after Sammy. But +what could we do? And they say there are Gypsies +around.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh!” gasped Agnes. “Do you suppose—?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You never can tell what those people will do. +I am told they have stolen children.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Isn’t that more talk than anything else?” +asked Agnes, trying to speak quite casually. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t know. One of my neighbors tells me +she hears that there is a big encampment of Gypsies +out on the Buckshot Road. You know, out +beyond the Poole farm. They have autovans instead +of horses, so they say, and maybe could +carry any children they stole out of the state in +a very short time.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, dear me, Mrs. Pinkney! I would not think +of such things,” Agnes urged. “It does not +sound reasonable.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That the Gypsies should travel by auto instead +of behind horse?” rejoined Sammy’s +mother. “Why not? Everybody else is using +automobiles for transportation. I tell Mr. Pinkney +that if we had a machine perhaps Sammy +might not have been so eager to leave home.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, dear, me!” thought Agnes, as she made +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span> +her way home again, “I am sorry for Mr. Pinkney. +Just now I guess he is having a hard time +at home as well as at business!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +But she treasured up what she had heard about +the Gypsy encampment on the Buckshot Road to +tell Neale—when she should not be so “put-out” +with him. The Buckshot Road was in an entirely +different direction from Milton than that they had +followed in their automobile on the memorable +search for Sammy. Agnes did not suppose for +a moment that the missing boy had gone with +the Gypsies. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span><a name='chXXI' id='chXXI'></a>CHAPTER XXI—TESS AND DOT TAKE A HAND</h2> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Up to this time Tess and Dot Kenway had +heard nothing about the Gypsy junkman haunting +the house at night, or about other threatening +things connected with the wonderful silver +bracelet. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Their young minds were quite as excited +about the ornament as in the beginning, however; +for in the first place they had to keep run +exactly of whose turn it was to “wear” the +Gypsies’ gift. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t see what we’ll do about it when Alice +grows up,” Dot said. She was always looking +forward in imagination to the time when her +favorite doll should become adult. “She will want +to wear that belt, Tess, for evening dress. You +know, a lady’s jewelry should belong to her.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I’m not going to give up my share to your +Alice-doll,” announced Tess, quite firmly for her. +“And, anyway, you must not be so sure that it is +going to be ours all the time. See! Aggie says +we can’t take it out of the house to play with.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t care!” whined Dot. “I don’t want to +give it back to those Gypsy ladies.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Neither do I. But we must of course, if we can +find them. Honest is honest.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It—it’s awful uncomfortable to be so dreadful’ +honest,” blurted out the smaller girl. “And I +think they meant us to have the bracelet.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“All right, then. It’s only polite to offer it back +to them. Then if they don’t want it we’ll know +that it is ours and even Ruth won’t say anything.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But—but when my Alice-doll grows up—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Now, don’t be a little piggie, Dot Kenway!” +exclaimed Tess, rather crossly. “When your +wrist gets big enough so the bracelet won’t slip +over your hand so easy, you will want to wear it +yourself—just as I do. And Agnes wants it, too.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh! But it’s ours—if it isn’t the Gypsy ladies’,” +Dot hastened to say. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Two claimants for the ornament were quite +enough. She did not wish to hear of any other +people desiring to wear it. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +As it chanced, Tess and Dot heard about the +Gypsy encampment on the Buckshot Road through +the tongue of neighborhood gossip, quite as had +Sammy’s mother. Margaret and Holly Pease +heard the store man tell their mother; and having +enviously eyed the silver bracelet in the possession +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span> +of the Kenway girls, they ran to tell the latter +about the Gypsies. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“They’ve come back,” declared Margaret decidedly, +“to look for that bracelet you’ve got. +You’ll see them soon enough.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Margie! do you think so?” murmured +Tess, while Dot was immediately so horror-stricken +that tears came to her eyes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Maybe they will bring the police and have you +locked up,” continued the cheerful Pease child. +“You know they might accuse you of stealing the +bracelet.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We never!” wailed Dot. “We never! They +gave it to us!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well, they are going to take it back, so now!” +Margaret Pease declared. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t think it is nice of you to say what you +do, Margie,” said Tess. “Everybody knows we +are honest. Why! if Dot and I knew how to find +them, we would take the bracelet right to the +Gypsy ladies. Wouldn’t we, Dot?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But—but we don’t know where to find them,” +blurted out the youngest Corner House girl. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You can find them I guess—out on the Buckshot +Road.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We don’t know that <em>our</em> Gypsy ladies are +there,” said Tess, with some defiance. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You don’t dare go to see,” said Margaret +Pease. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +It was a question to trouble the minds of Tess +and Dot. Should they try to find the Gypsies, and +see if the very ladies who had given them the +bracelet were in that encampment? +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +At least it was a leading question in Tess Kenway’s +mind. It must be confessed that Dot only +hoped it would prove a false alarm. She was very +grateful to the strange Gypsy women for having +put the silver ornament in the green and yellow +basket; but she hoped never to see those two kind +women again! +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The uncertainty was so great in both of the +small girls’ minds that they said nothing at all +about it in the hearing of any other member of the +family. Had Ruth been at home they might have +confided in her. They had always confided everything +to their eldest sister. But just now the two +smaller Corner House girls were living their own +lives, very much shut away from the existence Agnes, +for instance, was leading. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes had a secret—several of them, indeed. +She did not take Tess and Dot into her confidence. +So, if for no other reason, the smaller girls did +not talk to Agnes about the Gypsies. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The Kenways owned some tenement property in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span> +a much poorer part of the town than that prominent +corner on which the Corner House stood. +Early in their coming to Milton from Bloomsburg, +the Corner House girls had become acquainted +with the humble tenants whose rents helped swell +the funds which Mr. Howbridge cared for and administered. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Some of these poorer people, especially the children +near their own age, interested the Kenway +girls very much because they met these poorer +children in school. So when news was brought to +Agnes one afternoon (it was soon after lunch) +that Maria Maroni, whose father kept the coal, +wood, ice and vegetable cellar in one of the Stower +houses and who possessed a wife and big family of +children as well, had been taken ill, Agnes was +much disturbed. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes liked Maria Maroni. Maria was very +bright and forward in her studies and was a pretty +Italian girl, as well. The Maronis lived much better +than they once had, too. They now occupied +one of the upstairs tenements over Mrs. Kranz’s +delicatessen store, instead of all living in the basement. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The boy who ran into the Kenway yard and told +Agnes this while she was tying up the gladioli +stems after a particularly hard night’s rain, did +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span> +not seem to be an Italian. Indeed, he was no boy +that Agnes ever remembered having seen before. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +But tenants were changing all the time over +there where Maria lived. This might be a new boy +in that neighborhood. And, anyway, Agnes was +not bothered in her mind much about the boy. It +was Maria’s illness that troubled her. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What is the matter with the poor girl?” Agnes +wanted to know. “What does the doctor say +it is?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“They ain’t got no doc,” said the boy. “She’s +just sick, Maria is. I don’t know what she’s got +besides.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +This sounded bad enough to Agnes. And the +fact that the sick girl had no medical attention was +the greater urge for the Kenway girl to do something +about it. Of course, Joe and his wife must +have a doctor for Maria at once. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes went into the house and told Mrs. McCall +about it. She even borrowed the green and yellow +basket from the little girls and packed some jelly +and a bowl of broth and other nice things to take +to Maria Maroni. The Kenways seldom went to +the tenements empty-handed. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She would have taken Neale with her, only she +felt that after their incipient “quarrel” of the +previous morning she did not care immediately to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span> +make up with the boy. Sometimes she felt that +Neale O’Neil took advantage of her easy disposition. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +So Agnes went off alone with her basket. Half +an hour later a boy rang the front door bell of the +Corner House. He had a note for Mrs. McCall. +It was written in blue pencil, and while the housekeeper +was finding her reading glasses the messenger +ran away so that she could not question +him. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The note purported to be from Hedden, Mr. +Howbridge’s butler. It said that the lawyer had +been “brought home” and had asked for Mrs. McCall +to be sent for. It urged expedition in her +answer to the request, and it threw Mrs. McCall +into “quite a flutter” as she told Linda and Aunt +Sarah Maltby. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“The puir mon!” wailed the Scotch woman who +before she came to the old Corner House to care +for the Kenway household had been housekeeper +for Mr. Howbridge himself for many years. +“There is something sad happened to him, nae +doot. I must go awa’ wi’ me at aince. See to the +bairns, Miss Maltby, that’s the good soul. Even +Agnes is not in the hoose.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Of course I will see to them—if it becomes necessary,” +said Aunt Sarah. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Her idea of attending to the younger children, +however, was to remain in her own room knitting, +only occasionally going to the head of the back +stairs to ask Linda if Tess and Dot were all right. +The Finnish girl’s answer was always “Shure, +Mum,” and in her opinion Tess and Dot were all +right as long as she did not see that they were in +trouble. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +To tell the truth, Linda saw the smaller girls +very little after Mrs. McCall hurried out of the +house to take the street car for the lawyer’s residence. +Once Linda observed Tess and Dot in the +side yard talking to a boy through the pickets. +She had no idea that the sharp-featured boy was +the same who had brought the news of Maria Maroni’s +illness to Agnes, and the message from Hedden +to Mrs. McCall! +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The boy in question had come slowly along the +pavement on Willow Street, muttering to himself +as he approached as though saying over several +sentences that he had learned by rote. He was +quite evidently a keen-minded boy, but he was not +at all a trustworthy looking one. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Tess and Dot both saw him, and that he was a +stranger made the little girls eye him curiously. +When he hailed them they were not quite sure +whether they ought to reply or not. +</p> +<div><a name='fig4' id='fig4'></a></div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i005' id='i005'></a> +<img src="images/illus-202.jpg" alt="“They want that silver thing back. It wasn’t meant for you.”" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>“They want that silver thing back. It wasn’t meant for you.”</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span></div> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I guess you don’t know us,” Tess said doubtfully. +“You don’t belong in this neighborhood.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I know you all right,” said the boy. “You’re +the two girls those women sold the basket to. I +know you.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh!” gasped Tess. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“The Gypsy ladies!” murmured Dot. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That’s the one. They sold you the basket for +forty-five cents. Didn’t they?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes,” admitted Tess. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And it’s <em>ours</em>,” cried Dot. “We paid for it.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That’s all right,” said the boy slowly. “But +you didn’t buy what was in it. No, sir! They +want it back.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh! The basket?” cried Tess. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What you found in it.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The boy seemed very sure of what he was saying, +but he spoke slowly. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“They want that silver thing back. It wasn’t +meant for you. It was a mistake. You know very +well it isn’t yours. If you are honest—and you +told them you were—you will bring it back to +them.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh! They did ask us if we were honest,” Tess +said faintly. “And of course we are. Aren’t we, +Dot?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why—why— Do we have to be so dreadful’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span> +honest,” whispered the smallest Corner House +girl, quite borne down with woe. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Of course we have. Just think of what Ruthie +would say,” murmured Tess. Then to the boy: +“Where are those ladies?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Huh?” he asked. “What ladies?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“The Gypsy ladies we bought the basket from?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, <em>them</em>?” he rejoined hurriedly, glancing +along the street with eagerness. “You go right +out along this street,” and he pointed in the direction +from which he had come. “You keep on walking +until you reach the brick-yard.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh! Are they camped there?” asked Tess. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No. But a man with an automobile will meet +you there. He is a man who will take you right +to the Gypsy camp and bring you back again. +Don’t be afraid, kids. It’s all right.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He went away then, and the little girls could not +call him back. They wanted to ask further questions; +but it was evident that the boy had +delivered his message and was not to be cross-examined. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What <em>shall</em> we do?” Tess exclaimed. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, let’s wait. Let’s wait till Ruth comes +home,” cried Dot, saying something very sensible +indeed. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +But responsibility weighed heavily on Tess’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span> +mind. She considered that if the Gypsy women +wished their bracelet returned, it was her duty to +take it to them without delay. Besides, there was +the man in the automobile waiting for them. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Why the man had not come to the house with +the car, or why he had not brought the two Gypsy +women to the Corner House, were queries that did +not occur to the little girls. If Tess Kenway was +nothing else, she was strictly honest. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No,” she sighed, “we cannot wait. We must +go and see the women now. I will go in and get +the bracelet, Dot. Do you want your hat? Mrs. +McCall and Agnes are both away. We will have +to go right over and tend to this ourselves.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span><a name='chXXII' id='chXXII'></a>CHAPTER XXII—EXCITEMENT GALORE</h2> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +When Agnes Kenway reached the tenement +where Maria Maroni resided and found that +brisk young person helping in the delicatessen +store as she did almost every day during the busy +hours and when there was no school, the Corner +House girl was surprised; but she was not +suspicious. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +That is, she was not suspicious of any plot +really aimed at the happiness of the Corner House +family. She merely believed that the strange boy +had deliberately fooled her for an idle purpose. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Maria Maroni! What do you think?” Agnes +burst out. “Who could that boy be? Oh, I’d +like to catch him! I’d make him sorry he told +me such a story.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It is too bad you were troubled so, Agnes,” +said Maria, when she understood all about it. “I +can’t imagine who that boy could be. But I am +glad you came over to see us, never mind what +the reason is that brings you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“A sight you are for sore eyes yet,” declared +the ponderous Mrs. Kranz, who had kissed Agnes +warmly when she first appeared. “Come the back +room in and sit down. Let Ikey tend to the customers +yet, Maria. We will visit with Agnes, and +have some tea and sweet crackers.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And you must tell me of somebody in the row, +Mrs. Kranz, who needs these delicacies. Somebody +who is ill,” said Agnes. “I must not take +them home again. And Maria looks altogether +too healthy for jelly and chicken broth.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Mrs. Kranz laughed at that. But she added +with seriousness: “There is always somebody +sick here in the tenements, Miss Agnes. They +will not take care themselfs of—no! I tell them +warm flannels and good food is better than doctors yet. +But they will not mind me.” She +sighed. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Who is ill now?” asked Agnes, at once interested. +She loved to play “Lady Bountiful”; and, +really, the Kenway sisters had done a great deal +of good among their poor tenants and others in +the row. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Mrs. Leary. You know, her new baby died +and the poor woman,” said Maria quickly, “is sick +of grief, I do believe.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Ach, yes!” cried Mrs. Kranz. “She needs the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span> +cheerful word. You see her, Miss Agnes. Then +she be better—sure!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Thank you!” cried Agnes, dimpling and +blushing. “Do you really think I can help +her?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And there is little Susie Marowsky,” urged +the delicatessen shopkeeper. “That child is fading +away like a sick rose. She iss doing just that! +If she could have country eggs and country +milk—Ach! If we were all rich!” and she sighed +ponderously again. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I’ll tell our Ruth about her,” said Agnes +eagerly. “And I’ll see her, too, before I go home. +I’ll give her the broth, yes? And Mrs. Leary the +jelly, bread, and fruit?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No!” cried Mrs. Kranz. “The fruit to Dominic +Nevin, the scissors grinder. He craves +fruit. You know, he cut his hand and got blood +poisoning, and it was so long yet that he could not +work. You see him, too, Miss Agnes.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +So altogether, what with the tea and cakes and +the visits to the sick, Agnes was away from the +Corner House quite three hours. When she was +on her way home she was delayed by an unforeseen +incident too. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +At the corner of Willow Street not far from the +brick-yard a figure suddenly darted into Agnes’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span> +path. She was naturally startled by the sudden +appearance of this figure, and doubly so when she +saw it was the Costello that she knew as the junkman, +and whose first name she now believed to be +Miguel. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What do you want? Go away!” cried the girl +faintly, backing away from the vehement little +man. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, do not be afraid! You are the honest +Kenway I am sure. You have Queen Alma’s +bracelet,” urged the little man. “You will give +her to me—yes?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I—I haven’t it,” cried Agnes, looking all +about for help and seeing nobody near. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Ha!” ejaculated the man. “You have not +give it to Beeg Jeem?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We have given it to nobody. And we will not +let you or anybody have it until Mr. Howbridge +tells us what to do. Go away!” begged Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I go to that man. He no have the Queen Alma +bracelet. <em>You</em> have it—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Just as sure as I get home,” cried the frightened +Agnes, “I will send that bracelet down to +the lawyer’s office and they must keep it. It shall +be in the house no longer! Don’t you dare come +there for it!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She got past him then and ran as hard as she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span> +could along Willow Street. When she finally +looked back she discovered that the man had not +followed her, but had disappeared. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, dear me! I don’t care what the children +say. That bracelet goes into Mr. Howbridge’s +safe this very afternoon. Neale must take it there +for me,” Agnes Kenway decided. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She reached the side door of the Corner House +just as Mrs. McCall entered the front door, having +got off the car at the corner. The housekeeper +came through the hall and into the rear premises +a good deal like a whirlwind. She was so excited +that Agnes forgot her own fright and stared at +the housekeeper breathlessly. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Is it you home again, Agnes Kenway?” cried +Mrs. McCall. “Well, thanks be for <em>that</em>. Then +you are all right.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why, of course! Though he did scare me. +But what is the matter with you, Mrs. McCall?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What is the matter wi’ me? A plenty. A +plenty, I tellit ye. If I had that jackanapes of a +boy I’d shake him well, so I would!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What has Neale been doing now?” cried the +girl. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Not Neale.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Then is it Sammy?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Nor Sammy Pinkney. ’Tis that other lad that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span> +came here wi’ a lying note tae get me clear across +town for naething!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why, Mrs. McCall! what can you mean? Did +a boy fool you, too?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hech!” The woman started and stared at the +girl. “Who brought you news of that little girl +being sick?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But she wasn’t sick!” cried Agnes. “That +boy was an awful little story-teller.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Ye was fooled then? That Maria Maroni—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Was not ill at all.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And,” cried Mrs. McCall, “that boy who +brought a note to me from Hedden never came +from Mr. Howbridge’s house at all. It nearly +scar’t me tae death! It said Mr. Howbridge was +ill. He isn’t even at home yet, and when Mr. +Hedden heard from his master this morning he +was all right—the gude mon!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Mrs. McCall!” gasped Agnes, gazing at +the housekeeper with terrified visage. “What can +it mean?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Somebody has foolit us weel,” ejaculated the +enraged housekeeper. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But why?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The woman turned swiftly. She had grown +suddenly pale. She called up the back stairs for +Linda. A sleepy voice replied: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Here I be, mum!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Where are the children? Where are Tess and +Dot?” demanded Mrs. McCall, her voice husky. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“They was in the yard, mum, the last I see of +them.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That girl!” ejaculated the housekeeper +angrily. “She neglects everything. If there’s +harm happened to those bairns—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She rushed to the porch. Uncle Rufus was +coming slowly up from the garden, hoe and rake +over his shoulder. It was evident that the old +colored man had been working steadily, and for +some time, among the vegetables. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Uncle Rufus!” cried the excited woman. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Ya-as’m! Ya-as’m! I’s a-comin’,” said the +old man rather querulously. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Step here a minute,” said Mrs. McCall. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I’s a-steppin’, Ma’am,” grumbled the other. +“Does seem as though dey wants me for fust one +t’ing an’ den anudder. I don’t no more’n git t’roo +one chore den sumpin’ else hops right out at me. +Lawsy me!” and he mopped his bald brown brow +with a big bandanna. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I only want to ask you something,” said the +housekeeper, less raspingly. “Are the little ones +down there? Have you seen them?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Them chillun? No’m. I ain’t seen ’em fo’ +some time. They was playin’ up this-a-way den.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“How long ago?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I done reckon it was nigh two hours ago.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hunt for them, Agnes!” gasped the housekeeper. +“I fear me something bad has happened. +You, Linda,” for the Finnish girl now appeared, +“run to the neighbors—all of them! See if you +can find those bairns.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Tess and Dottie, mum?” cried the Finnish +girl, already in tears. “Oh! they ain’t losted are +they?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“For all <em>you</em> know they are!” declared Mrs. +McCall. “Look around the house for them, Uncle +Rufus. I will look inside—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“They may be upstairs with Aunt Sarah,” +cried Agnes, getting her breath at last. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I’ll know that in a moment!” declared Mrs. +McCall, and darted within. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes ran in the other direction. She felt such +a lump in her throat that she could scarcely speak +or breathe. The possibility of something having +happened to the little girls—and with Ruth away!—cost +the second Corner House girl every last +bit of her self-control. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Neale! Neale!” she murmured over and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span> +over again, as she ran to the lower end of the +premises. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She fairly threw herself at the fence and scrambled +to her usual perch. There he was cleaning +Mr. Con Murphy’s yard. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Neale!” she gasped. At first he did not hear +her, but she drubbed upon the fence with the toes +of her shoes. “Neale!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why, hullo, Aggie!” exclaimed the boy, turning +around and seeing her. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Neale! Come here!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He was already coming closer. He saw that +again she was much overwrought. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What has happened now?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Have you seen Tess and Dot?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Not to-day.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I—I mean within a little while? Two hours?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I tell you I have not seen them at all to-day. I +have been busy right here for Con.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Then they are gone! The Gypsies have got +them!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +For Agnes, without much logic of thought, had +immediately jumped to this conclusion. Neale +stared. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What sort of talk is that, Agnes?” he demanded. +“You know that can’t be so.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I tell you it is so! It must be so! They got +Mrs. McCall and me out of the house—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Who did?” interrupted Neale, getting hastily +over the fence and taking the girl’s hand. “Now, +tell me all about it—everything!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +As well as she could for her excitement and +fear, the girl told the story of the boy who had +brought her the false message about Maria Maroni, +and then about the message Mrs. McCall had +received calling her across town. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It must be that they have kidnapped the children!” +moaned Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Not likely,” declared the boy. “The kids +have just gone visiting without asking leave. In +fact, there was nobody to ask. But I see that +there is a game on just the same.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He started hastily for the Corner House and +Agnes trotted beside him. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But where <em>are</em> Tess and Dot?” she demanded. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“How do I know?” he returned. “I want to +find out if there is something else missing.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What do you mean?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That bracelet.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Goodness, Neale! Is it that bracelet that has +brought us trouble again?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It looks like a plot all right to me. A plot to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216'></a>216</span> +get you and Mrs. McCall out of the house so that +somebody could slip in and steal the bracelet. +Didn’t that ever occur to you?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Goodness me, Neale!” cried Agnes again, but +with sudden relief in her voice. “If that is all it +is I’ll be glad if the old bracelet is stolen. Then +it cannot make us any more trouble, that is one +sure thing!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span><a name='chXXIII' id='chXXIII'></a>CHAPTER XXIII—A SURPRISING MEETING</h2> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Tess and Dot Kenway, with no suspicion that +anything was awaiting them save the possible loss +of the silver bracelet, but otherwise quite enjoying +the adventure, walked hurriedly along Willow +Street as far as the brick-yard. That they were +disobeying a strict injunction in taking the bracelet +out of the house was a matter quite overlooked +at the time. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +They came to the corner and there, sure enough, +was a big, dusty automobile, with a big, dark man +in the driver’s seat. He smiled at the two little +girls and Tess remembered him instantly. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Dot!” she exclaimed, “it is the man we +saw in this auto with the young Gypsy lady when +we were driving home with Scalawag from +Mr. Howbridge’s the other day. Don’t you +remember?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes,” said Dot, with a sigh. “I guess it is +the same one. Oh, dear, me!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +For the nearer the time came to give up the +silver bracelet, the worse Dot felt about it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The big Gypsy looked around at the two little +girls and smiled broadly. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You leetle ladies tak’ ride with Beeg Jeem?” +he asked. “You go to see the poor Gypsy women +who let you have the fine bracelet to play with? +Yes?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He knows all about it, Tess,” murmured Dot. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes, we will give them back the bracelet,” +Tess said firmly to the Gypsy man. “But we will +not give it up to anybody else.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Get right into my car,” said Big Jim, reaching +back to open the tonneau door. “You shall +be taken to the camp and there find the ones who +gave you the bracelet. Sure!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +There was something quite “grownupish” in +thus getting into the big car all alone, and Tess +and Dot were rather thrilled as they seated themselves +on the back seat and the Gypsy drove them +away. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Fifteen minutes or so later Agnes came to this +very corner and had her unpleasant interview +with Miguel Costello. But of course by that time +the children were far away. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The big Gypsy drove them very rapidly and by +lonely roads into a part of the country that Tess +and Dot never remembered having seen before. +Whenever he saw anybody on the road, either +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219'></a>219</span> +afoot or in other cars, Big Jim increased his speed +and flashed by them so that there was little likelihood +of these other people seeing that the two +little girls were other than Gypsy girls. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He did nothing to frighten Tess and Dot. Indeed, +he was so smiling and so pleasant that they +enjoyed the drive immensely and came finally in +a state of keen enjoyment to the camp which was +made a little back from the highway. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well, if we have to give up the bracelet,” +sighed Tess, as they got out of the car, “we can +say that we have had a fine ride.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That is all right. But how will my Alice-doll +feel when she finds out she can’t wear that pretty +belt again?” said Dot. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +There were many people in the camp, both men +and women and children. The latter kept at a +distance from Tess and Dot, but stared at them +very curiously. They kept the dogs away from +the visitors, too, and the little girls were glad of +that. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Where can we find the two ladies that—that +sold us the basket?” asked Tess politely, of Big +Jim. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You look around, leetle ladies. You find,” he +assured them. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +There were four or five motor vans of good +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220'></a>220</span> +size in which the Gypsies evidently lived while +they were traveling. But there were several tents +set up as well. It was a big camp. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Timidly at first the two sisters, hand in hand, +the silver bracelet firmly clutched inside Tess’s +dress against her side, began walking about. They +tried to ask questions about the women they +sought; but nobody seemed to understand. They +all smiled and shook their heads. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Dear me! it must be dreadful to be born a +foreigner,” Dot finally said. “How can they +make themselves understood <em>at all</em>?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But they seem to be very pleasant persons,” +Tess rejoined decidedly. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The children ran away from them. Perhaps +they had been ordered to by the older Gypsies. +By and by Tess, at least, grew somewhat worried +when they did not find either of the women who +had sold them the yellow and green basket. Dot, +secretly, hoped the two in question had gone +away. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Suddenly, however, the two Kenway girls came +face to face with somebody they did know. But +so astonished were they by this discovery that for +a long minute neither could believe her eyes! +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Sammy Pinkney!” gasped Tess at last. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It—ain’t—<em>never</em>!” murmured the smaller +girl. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The figure which had tried to dodge around the +end of a motor van to escape observation looked +nothing at all like the Sammy Pinkney the Kenway +girls had formerly known. Never in their +experience of Sammy—not even when he had +slipped down the chimney at the old Corner House +and landed on the hearth, a very sooty Santa +Claus—had the boy looked so disgracefully ragged +and dirty. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well, what’s the matter with me?” he demanded +defiantly. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why—why there looks to be most <em>every</em>thing +the matter with you, Sammy Pinkney,” declared +Tess, with disgust. “What <em>do</em> you s’pose your +mother would say to you?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I ain’t going home to find out,” said Sammy. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And—and your pants are all tored,” gasped +Dot. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, that happened long ago,” said Sammy, +quite as airy as the trousers. “And I’m having +the time of my life here. Nobody sends me errands, +or makes me—er—weed beet beds! So +there! I can do just as I please.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You look as though you had, Sammy,” was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span> +Tess’s critical speech. “I guess your mother +wouldn’t want you home looking the way you do.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I look well enough,” he declared defiantly. +“And don’t you tell where I am. Will you?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But, Sammy!” exclaimed Dot, “you ran away +to be a pirate.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What if I did?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But you can’t be a pirate here.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I can be a Gypsy. And that’s lots more fun. +If I joined a pirate crew I couldn’t get to be +captain right away of course, so I would have to +mind somebody. Here I don’t have to mind anybody +at all.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well, I never!” ejaculated Tess Kenway. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well, I never!” repeated Dot, with similar +emphasis. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Say, what are you kids here for?” demanded +Sammy, with an attempt to turn the conversation +from his own evident failings. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, we were brought here on a visit,” Tess +returned rather haughtily. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Huh! You <em>was</em>? Who you visiting? Is +Aggie with you? Or Neale?” and he looked +around suddenly as though choosing a way of +escape. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We are here all alone,” said Dot reassuringly. +“You needn’t be afraid, Sammy.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223'></a>223</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Who’s afraid?” he said gruffly. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You would be if Neale was with us, for Neale +would make you go home,” said the smallest +Kenway girl. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But who brought you? What you here for? +Oh! That old bracelet I bet!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes,” sighed Dot. “They want it back.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Who want it back?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Those two ladies that sold us the basket,” +explained Tess. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Are they with this bunch of Gypsies?” asked +Sammy in surprise. “I haven’t seen them. And +I’ve been here two whole days.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“How did you come to be a Gypsy, Sammy?” +asked Dot with much curiosity. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Why, I—er—Well, I lost my clothes and my +money and didn’t have much to eat and that big +Gypsy saw me on the road and asked me if I +wanted to ride. So I came here with him and he +let me stay. And nobody does a thing to me. I +licked one boy,” added Sammy with satisfaction, +“so the others let me alone.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But haven’t you seen either of those two +ladies that sold us the basket?” demanded Tess, +beginning to be worried a little. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Nope. I don’t believe they are here.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But that man says they are here,” cried Tess. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224'></a>224</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Let’s go ask him. I—I won’t give that bracelet +to anybody else but one of those ladies.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Crickey!” exclaimed Sammy. “Don’t feel so +bad about it. Course there is a mistake somehow. +These folks are real nice folks. They wouldn’t +fool you.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The three, Sammy looking very important, went +to find Big Jim. He was just as smiling as ever. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, yes! The little ladies are not to be +worried. The women they want will soon come.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You see?” said Sammy, boldly. “It will be +all right. Why, these people treat you <em>right</em>. I +tell you! You can do just as you please in a +Gypsy camp and nobody says anything to you.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“See!” exclaimed Tess suddenly. “Are they +packing up to leave? Or do they stay here all +the time?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +It was now late afternoon. Instead of the +supper fires being revived, they were smothered. +Men and women had begun loading the heavier +vans. The tents were coming down. Clotheslines +stretched between the trees were now being coiled +by the children. All manner of rubbish was being +thrown into the bushes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t know if they are moving. I’ll ask,” +said Sammy, somewhat in doubt. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He went to a boy bigger than himself, but who +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span> +seemed to be friendly. The little girls waited, +staring all about for the two women with whom +they had business. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t care,” whispered Dot. “If they don’t +come pretty soon, and these Gypsies are going +away from here, we’ll just go back home, Tess. +We <em>can’t</em> give them the bracelet if we don’t see +them.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But we do not want to walk home,” her sister +said slowly in return. “And we ought to make +Sammy go with us.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You try to <em>make</em> Sammy do anything!” exclaimed +Dot, with scorn. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Their boy friend returned, swaggering as +usual. “Well, they are going to move,” he said. +“But I’m going with them. That boy—he was the +one I licked, but he’s a good kid—says they are +going to a pond where the fishing is great. Wish +I had my fishpole.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But you must come back home with us, +Sammy,” began Tess gravely. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Not much I won’t! Don’t you think it,” cried +Sammy. “But you might get my fishing tackle +and jointed pole and sneak ’em out to me. There’s +good kids!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We will do nothing sneaky for you at all, +Sammy Pinkney!” exclaimed Tess indignantly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Aw, go on! You can just as easy.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We can, but we won’t. So there! And if you +don’t go home with us when the man takes us +back in his car we certainly will tell where you +are.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Be a telltale. <em>I</em> don’t care,” cried Sammy, +roughly. “And I won’t say just where we are +going from here, so you needn’t think my folks +will find me.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +One of the closed vans—something like a moving +van only with windows in the sides, a stove-pipe +sticking out of the roof, and a door at the +rear, with steps—seemed now to be ready to start. +A man climbed into the front seat to drive it. +Several women and smaller children got in at the +rear after the various bales and packages that had +been tossed in. The big man suddenly shouted +and beckoned to Tess and Dot. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Here, little ladies,” he said, still smiling his +wide smile. “You come go wit’ my mudder, eh? +Take you to find the Gypsy women you want to +see.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But—er—Mr. Gypsy,” said Tess, somewhat +disturbed now, “we must go back home.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Sure. Tak’ you home soon as you see those +women and give them what you got for them.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He strode across the camp to them. His smile +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227'></a>227</span> +was quite as wide, but did not seem to forecast +as much good-nature as at first. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Come now! Get in!” he commanded. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hey!” cried Sammy. “What you doing? +Those little girls are friends of mine. You want +to let them ride in that open car—not in that box. +What d’you think we are?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Get out the way, boy!” commanded Big Jim. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He seized Tess suddenly by the shoulders, +swung her up bodily despite her screams and +tossed her through the rear door of the Gypsy +van. Dot followed so quickly that she could +scarcely utter a frightened gasp. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Hey! Stop that! Those are the Kenway +girls. Why! Mr. Howbridge will come after them +and he’ll—he’ll—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Sammy’s excited threat was stopped in his +throat. Big Jim’s huge hand caught the boy a +heavy blow upon the side of his head. The next +moment he was shot into the motor-van too and +the door was shut. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He heard Tess and Dot sobbing somewhere +among the women and children already crowded +into the van. It was a stuffy place, for none of +the windows were open. Although this nomadic +people lived mostly out of doors, and never under +a real roof if they could help it, they did not seem +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span> +to mind the smothering atmosphere of the van +which now, with a sudden lurch, started out of +the place of encampment. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Never you mind, Tess and Dot, they won’t +dare carry you far. Maybe they are taking you +home anyway,” said Sammy in a low voice. “The +first time they stop and let us out we’ll run away. +I will get you home all right.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You—you can’t get yourself home, Sammy,” +sobbed Dot. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Maybe you like it being a Gypsy, but we +don’t,” added Tess. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I’ll fix it for you all right—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +One of the old crones reached out in the semi-darkness +and slapped Sammy across the mouth. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Shut up!” she commanded harshly. But +when she tried to slap the boy again she screamed. +It must be confessed that Sammy bit her! +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You lemme alone,” snarled the boy captive. +“And don’t you hit those girls. If you do I—I’ll +bite the whole lot of you!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The women jabbered a good deal together in +their own tongue; but nobody tried to interfere +with Sammy thereafter. He shoved his way into +the van until he stood beside Tess and Dot. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Let’s not cry about it,” he whispered. “That +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229'></a>229</span> +won’t get us anywhere, that is sure. But the very +first chance we get—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +No chance for escape however was likely to +arise while the Gypsy troop were en route. The +children could hear the rumble of the vans behind. +Soon Big Jim in his touring car passed this +first van and shouted to the driver. Then the +procession settled into a steady rate of speed and +the three little captives had not the least idea in +which direction they were headed nor where they +were bound. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Back at the old Corner House affairs were in a +terrible state of confusion. Linda had returned +from her voyage among the neighbors with absolutely +no news of the smaller girls. And Agnes +had discovered that the silver bracelet was +missing. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It was Tess’s day for wearing it, but she did +not have it on when she went out to play,” the +older sister explained. “Do you suppose the +house has been robbed, Neale O’Neil?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Neale had been examining closely the piece of +paper that Agnes had found stuck to the plate +on which she had fed the beggar girl the day before +and also the note Mrs. McCall had received +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230'></a>230</span> +purporting to come from Mr. Howbridge’s butler. +Both were written in blue pencil, and by the same +hand without any doubt. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It’s a plot clear enough. And naturally we +may believe that it was not hatched by that Miguel +Costello, the junkman. It looks as though it was +done by Big Jim’s crowd.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But what have they done with the bairns?” +demanded the housekeeper, in horror. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Neale! have they stolen Tess and Dot, as +well as the silver bracelet?” was Agnes’ bitter +cry. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Got me. Don’t know,” muttered the boy. +“And what would they want the children for, +anyway?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Let us find out if any Gypsies have been seen +about the house this afternoon,” Agnes proposed. +“You see, Neale. Don’t send Linda.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Linda, indeed, was in a hopeless state. She +didn’t know, declared Mrs. McCall, whether she +was on her head or her heels! +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Neale ran out and searched the neighborhood +over. When he came back he had found nobody +who had set eyes on any Gypsies; but he had +heard from Mrs. Pease that Gypsies were camped +out of town. The store man had told her so. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh!” gasped Agnes, suddenly remembering. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span> +“I heard about that. Mrs. Pinkney told me. +They are on the Buckshot Road, out beyond where +Carrie Poole lives. You know, Neale.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Sure I know where the Poole place is,” admitted +Neale. “We have all been there often +enough. And I can get the car—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Do! Do!” begged Mrs. McCall. “You cannot +go too quickly, Neale O’Neil. And take the +police wi’ ye, laddie!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Take me with you, Neale!” commanded +Agnes. “We can find a constable out that way if +we need one. I know Mr. Ben Stryker who lives +just beyond the Pooles. And he is a constable, +for he stopped the car once when I was driving +and said he would have to arrest me if I did not +drive slower.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Sure!” said Neale. “Agnes knows all the +traffic cops on the route, I bet. But we don’t +<em>know</em> that the children have gone with the +Gypsies.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And we never will know if you stand here and +argue. Anyway, it looks as though the silver +bracelet has been stolen by them.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Or by somebody,” granted the boy. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Ne’er mind the bit bracelet,” commanded the +housekeeper. “Find Tess and Dot. I am going +to put on my bonnet and shawl and go to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232'></a>232</span> +police station mysel’. Do you children hurry +away in the car as you promised.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +It was already supper time, but nobody thought +of that meal, unless it was Aunt Sarah. When +she came down to see what the matter was—why +the evening meal was so delayed—she found +Linda sobbing with her apron over her head in +the kitchen and the tea kettle boiled completely +dry. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +That was nothing, however, to the condition of +affairs at one o’clock that night when Ruth, with +Luke and Cecile Shepard, arrived at the old Corner +House. They had been delayed at the station +half an hour while Ruth telephoned for and obtained +a comfortable touring car for her visitors +and herself. Agnes did not have to beg her older +sister to put in a telephone. After this experience +Ruth was determined to do just that. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The party arrived home to find the Corner +House lit up as though for a reception. But it +was not in honor of their arrival. The telegram +announcing Ruth’s coming had scarcely been noticed +by Mrs. McCall. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Mrs. McCall had recovered a measure of her +composure and good sense; but she could scarcely +welcome the guests properly. Aunt Sarah Maltby +had gone to bed, announcing that she was utterly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233'></a>233</span> +prostrated and should never get up again unless +Tess and Dot were found. Linda and Uncle Rufus +were equally distracted. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But where are Agnes and Neale?” Ruth demanded, +very white and determined. “What are +they doing?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“They started out in the machine around eight +o’clock,” explained Mrs. McCall. “They are +searching high and low for the puir bairns.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“All alone?” gasped Ruth. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Mr. Pinkney has gone with them. And I believe +they were to pick up a constable. That +Neale O’Neil declares he will raid every Gypsy +camp and tramp’s roost in the county. And +Sammy’s father took a pistol with him.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And you let Agnes go with them!” murmured +Ruth. “Suppose she gets shot?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“My maircy!” cried the housekeeper, clasping +her hands. “I never thought about that pistol +being dangerous, any more than Uncle Rufus’s +gun with the broken hammer.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span><a name='chXXIV' id='chXXIV'></a>CHAPTER XXIV—THE CAPTIVES</h2> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +That ride, shut in the Gypsy van, was one that +neither Tess nor Dot nor Sammy Pinkney were +likely soon to forget. The car plunged along the +country road, and the distance the party traveled +was considerable, although the direction was circuitous +and did not, after two hours, take the +Gypsy clan much farther from Milton than they +had been at the previous camp. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +By eleven o’clock they pulled off the road into +a little glade that had been well known to the +leaders of the party. A new camp was established +in a very short time. Tents were again erected, +fires kindled for the late supper, and the life of the +Gypsy town was re-begun. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +But Sammy and the two little Corner House +girls were forbidden to leave the van in which +they had been made to ride. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Big Jim came over himself, banged Sammy with +his broad palm, and told him: +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You keep-a them here—you see? If those kids +get out, I knock you good. See?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Sammy saw stars at least! He would not answer +the man. There was something beside stubbornness +to Sammy Pinkney. But stubbornness +stood him in good stead just now. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Don’t you mind, Tess and Dot,” he whispered, +his own voice broken with half-stifled sobs. “I’ll +get you out of it. We’ll run away first chance we +get.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But it never does <em>you</em> any good to run away, +Sammy,” complained Tess. “You only get into +trouble. Dot and I don’t want to be beaten by +that man. He is horrid.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I wish we could see those nice ladies who sold +us the basket,” wailed Dot, quite desperate now. +“I—I’d be <em>glad</em> to give ’em back the bracelet.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Sh!” hissed Sammy. “We’ll run away and +we’ll take the bracelet along. These Gyps sha’n’t +ever get it again, so there!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Humph! I don’t see what you have to say +about <em>that</em>, Sammy,” scoffed Tess. “If the women +own it, of course they have got to have it. But +I don’t want that Big Jim to have it—not at all!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He won’t get it. You leave it to me,” said +Sammy, with recovered assurance. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The van door was neither locked nor barred. +But if the children had stepped out of it the firelight +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236'></a>236</span> +would have revealed their figures instantly +to the Gypsies. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Either the women bending over the pots and +pans at the fires or the children running about the +encampment would have raised a hue and cry if +the little captives had attempted to run away. +And there were a dozen burly men sitting about, +smoking and talking and awaiting the call to +supper. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +This meal was finally prepared. The fumes +from the pots reached the nostrils of Tess, Dot, +and Sammy, and they were all ravenously hungry. +Nor were they denied food. The Gypsies evidently +had no intention of maltreating the captives +in any particular as long as they obeyed and +did not try to escape. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +One young woman brought a great pan of stew +and bread and three spoons to the van and set it +on the upper step for the children. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You eat,” said she, smiling, and the firelight +shining on her gold earrings. “It do you goot—yes?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Miss Gypsy!” begged Tess, “we want to +go home.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That all right. Beeg Jeem tak-a you. To-morrow, +maybe.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She went away hurriedly. But she had left them +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237'></a>237</span> +a plentiful supper. The three were too ravenous +to be delicate. They each seized a spoon and, as +Sammy advised, “dug in.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“This is the way all Gypsies eat,” he said, +proud of his knowledge. “Sometimes the men use +their pocket knives to cut up the meat. But they +don’t seem to have any forks. And I guess forks +aren’t necessary anyway.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But they are nicer than fingers,” objected +Tess. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Huh? Are they?” observed the young barbarian. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +After they had completely cleared the pan of +every scrap and eaten every crumb of bread and +drunk the milk that had been brought to them in +a quart cup, Dot naturally gave way to sleepiness. +She began to whimper a little too. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“If that big, bad Gypsy man doesn’t take us +home pretty soon I shall have to sleep here, Sister,” +she complained. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You lie right down on this bench,” said Tess +kindly, “and I will cover you up and you can sleep +as long as you want to.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +So Dot did this. But Sammy was not at all +sleepy. His mind was too active for that. He +was prowling about the more or less littered van. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Say!” he whispered to Tess, “there is a little +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span> +window here in the front overlooking the driver’s +seat. And it swings on a hinge like a door.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t care, Sammy. I—I’m sleepy, too,” +confessed Tess, with a yawn behind her hand. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Say! don’t <em>you</em> go to sleep like a big kid,” +snapped the boy. “We’ve got to get away from +these Gyps.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I thought you were going to stay with them +forever.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Not to let that Big Jim bang me over the head. +Not much!” ejaculated Sammy fiercely. “If my +father saw him do that—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But your father isn’t here. If he was—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“If he was you can just bet,” said Sammy with +confidence, “that Big Jim would not dare hit me.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I—I wish your father would come and take us +all home then,” went on Tess, with another yawn. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well,” admitted Sammy, “I wish he would, +too. Crickey! but it’s awful to have girls along, +whether you are a pirate or a Gypsy.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You needn’t talk!” snapped Tess, quite tart +for her. “We did not ask to come. And you +were here ‘fore we got here. And now you can’t +get away any more than Dot and I can.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Sh!” advised Sammy again, and earnestly. +“I got an idea.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What is it?” asked Tess, without much curiosity. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“This here window in front!” whispered the +boy. “We can open it. It is all dark at that end +of the van. If we can slide out on to the seat we’ll +climb down in the dark and get into the woods. +I know the way to the road. I can see a patch of +it through the window. What say?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But Dot? She sleeps so hard,” breathed Tess. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“We can poke her through the window on to the +seat. Then we will crawl through. If she doesn’t +wake up and holler—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I’ll stop her from hollering,” agreed Tess +firmly. “We’ll try it, Sammy, before those awful +women get back into the van.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Fortunately for the attempt of the captives their +own supper had been dispatched with promptness. +The Gypsies were still sitting about over the meal +when Sammy opened that front window in the +van. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He and Tess lifted Dot, who complained but +faintly and kept her eyes tightly closed, and +pushed her feet first through the small window. +The driver’s seat was broad and roomy. The little +girl lay there all right while first Tess and then +Sammy crept through the window. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +It was dark here, and they could scarcely see +the way to the ground. But Sammy ventured +down first, and after barking his shins a little +found the step and whispered his directions to +Tess about passing Dot down to him. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +They actually got to the ground themselves and +brought the smallest Corner House girl with them +without any serious mishap. Sammy tried to +carry Dot over his shoulder, but he could not stagger +far with her. And, too, the sleepy child began +to object. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Sh! Keep still!” hissed her sister in Dot’s +ear. “Do you want the Gypsies to get you +again?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +She had to help Sammy carry the child, however. +Dot was such a heavy sleeper—especially +when she first went to sleep—that nothing could +really bring her back to realities. The two stumbled +along with her in the deep shadows and actually +reached the woods that bordered the encampment. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Suddenly a dog barked. Somebody shouted to +the animal and it subsided with a sullen growl. +But in a moment another dog began to yap. The +guards of the camp realized that something was +going wrong, although as yet none of the dogs had +scented the escaping children exactly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241'></a>241</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, hurry! Hurry!” gasped Tess. “The +dogs will chase us.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I am afraid they will,” admitted Sammy. +“We got to hide our trail.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“How’ll we do that, Sammy?” gasped Tess. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Like the Indians do,” declared the boy. “We +got to find a stream of water and wade in it.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But I’ve got shoes and stockings on. And +Mrs. McCall says we can’t go wading without asking +permission.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Crickey! how you going to run away from +these Gypsies if you’ve got to mind what you’re +told all the time?” asked Sammy desperately. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But won’t the water be cold? And why wade +in it, anyway?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“So the dogs can’t follow our scent. They can’t +follow scent through water. Come on. We got to +find a brook or something.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“There’s the canal,” ventured Tess, in an awed +whisper. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“The canal, your granny!” exclaimed the exasperated +boy. “That’s over your head, Tess Kenway.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well! I don’t know of any other water. Oh! +Hear those dogs bark.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Don’t you s’pose I’ve got ears?” snapped +Sammy. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242'></a>242</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“They sound awful savage.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes. They’ve got some savage dogs,” admitted +the boy. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Will they bite us? Oh, Sammy! will they bite +us?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Not if they don’t catch us,” replied the boy, +staggering on, bearing the heavier end of Dot +while Tess carried her sister’s feet. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +They suddenly burst through a fringe of bushes +upon the open road. There was just starlight +enough to show them the way. The dogs were +still barking vociferously back at the Gypsy camp. +But there seemed to be no pursuit. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, my gracious! I’ve torn my frock,” gasped +Tess. “Do wait, Sammy.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The boy stopped. Indeed he had to, for his own +breath had given out. The three fell right down +on the grass beside the road, and Dot began to +whimper. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“You stop her, Tess!” exclaimed Sammy. +“You said you could. She will bring those Gypsies +right here.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Dot! Dot!” whispered Tess, shaking the +smaller girl. “Do you want to be a prisoner +again? Keep still!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“My—my knees are cold,” whined Dot. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243'></a>243</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Je-ru-sa-lem!” gasped Sammy explosively. +“<em>Now</em> she’s done it! We’re caught again.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He jumped to his feet, but not quickly enough to +escape the outstretched hand of the figure that +had suddenly appeared beside them. A dark face +bent over the trio of frightened children. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“He’s a Gyp!” cried Sammy. “We’re done +for, Tess!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244'></a>244</span><a name='chXXV' id='chXXV'></a>CHAPTER XXV—IT MUST BE ALL RIGHT</h2> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +As Mrs McCall told Ruth Kenway when she +arrived with Luke and Cecile at the old Corner +House, the other Kenway sister and Neale O’Neil +had not started out on their hunt for the Gypsy +encampment alone. Mr. Pinkney, hearing of the +absence of the smaller girls, had volunteered to +go with the searchers. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Somehow, my wife feels that Sammy may be +with Tess and Dot,” he explained to Neale and +Agnes. “I never contradict her at such times. +And perhaps he is. No knowing where that boy +of mine is likely to turn up, anyway.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But you do not suppose for one instant, Mr. +Pinkney, that Sammy has come and coaxed my +sisters to run away?” cried Agnes from the tonneau, +as the car started out through Willow +Street. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I am not so sure about that. You know, he +got Dot to run away with him once,” chuckled Mr. +Pinkney. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“This is nothing like that, I am sure!” declared +Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I am with you there, Aggie,” admitted Neale. +“I guess this is a serious affair. The Gypsies are +in it.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Between the two, the boy and the girl told Mr. +Pinkney all about the silver bracelet and the +events connected with it. The man listened with +appreciation. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I don’t know, of course, anything about the +fight between the two factions of Gypsies over +what you call Queen Alma’s bracelet—” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“If it doesn’t prove to be Sarah Turner’s +bracelet,” interjected Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yes. That is possible. They may have just +found it—those Gypsy women. And the story +Costello, the junkman, told us might be a fake,” +said Neale. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“However,” broke in Mr. Pinkney again, +“there is a chance that the bracelet was given to +Tess and Dot for a different purpose from any +you have suggested.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What do you mean by that?” asked Neale and +Agnes in unison. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It is a fact that some Gypsies do steal children. +Now, don’t be startled! It isn’t commonly done. +They are often accused without good reason. But +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246'></a>246</span> +Gypsies are always more or less mixed up with +traveling show people. There are many small tent +shows traveling about the country at this time of +year.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Like Twomley & Sorber’s circus,” burst out +Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Smaller than that. Just one-ring affairs. +And the shows are regular ‘fly-by-nights.’ Gypsies +fraternize with them of course. And often +children are trained in those shows to be acrobats +who are doubtless picked up around the country—usually +children who have no guardians. And the +Gypsies sometimes pick up such.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, but, Mr. Pinkney!” cried Agnes, “we are +so careful of Tess and Dot. Usually, I mean. I +don’t know what Ruth will say when she gets +home to-night. It looks as though we had been +very careless while she was gone.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I know what children have to go through in +a circus,” said Neale soberly. “But why should +the Gypsies have selected Tess and Dot?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Because, you tell me, they were playing circus, +and doing stunts at the very time the Gypsy +women sold them the basket.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh! So they were,” agreed Agnes. “Oh, +Neale!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Crickey! It might be, I suppose. I never +thought of that,” admitted the boy. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247'></a>247</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He was carefully running the car while this +talk was going on. He soon drove past the Poole +place and later stopped at a little house where the +constable lived. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Mr. Ben Stryker was at home. It was not often +that automobile parties called at his door. Usually +they did not want to see Mr. Stryker, who was +a stickler for the “rules of the road.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What’s the matter?” asked the constable, coming +out to the car. “Want to pay me your fine, so +as not to have to wait to see the Justice of the +Peace?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He said it jokingly. When he heard about the +missing Kenway children and of the reason to fear +Gypsies had something to do with it, he jumped +into the car, taking Mr. Pinkney’s place in the +front seat beside Neale. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I’ve had my eye on Big Jim Costello ever since +he has been back here,” Stryker declared. “I sent +him away to jail once. He is a bad one. And if +he is mixed up in any kidnapping, I’ll put him into +the penitentiary for a long term.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“But of course we would not want to make them +trouble if the children went to the camp alone,” +ventured Agnes. “You know, they might have +been hunting for the two women who sold them +the basket.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Those Gypsies know what to do in such a case. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248'></a>248</span> +They know where I live, and they should have +brought the two little girls to me. I certainly have +it in for Big Jim.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +But as we have seen, when the party arrived +at the spot where the Gypsies had been encamped, +not a trace of them was left. That is, no trace +that pointed to the time or the direction of their +departure. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Maybe these Gypsies did not have a thing to +do with the absence of Tess and Dot,” whispered +Agnes. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And maybe they had everything to do with it,” +declared Neale, aloud. “Looks to me as though +they had turned the trick and escaped.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And in those motor-vans they can cover a deal +of ground,” suggested Mr. Pinkney. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes broke down at this point and wept. The +constable had got out and with the aid of his +pocket lamp searched the vicinity. He saw plainly +where the vans had turned into the dusty road +and the direction they had taken. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“The best we can do is to follow them,” he advised. +“If I can catch them inside the county I’ll +be able to handle them. And if they go into the +next county I’ll get help. Well search their vans, +no matter where we catch them. All ready?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The party went on. To catch the moving Gypsies was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249'></a>249</span> +no easy matter. Frequently Mr. Stryker +got down to look at the tracks. This was at every +cross road. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Fortunately the wheels of one of the Gypsy vans +had a peculiar tread. It was easy to see the marks +of these wheels in the dust. Therefore, although +the pursuit was slow, they managed to be sure they +were going right. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +From eleven o’clock until three in the morning +the motor-car was driven over the circuitous route +the nomad procession had taken earlier in the +night. Then they came to the new encampment. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Their approach was announced by the barking +of the mongrel dogs that guarded the camp. Half +the tribe seemed to be awake when the car slowed +down and stopped on the roadway. Mr. Stryker +got out and shouted for Big Jim. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Come out here!” said the constable threateningly. +“I know you are here, and I want to talk +with you, Jim Costello.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well, whose chicken roost has been raided +now?” demanded Big Jim, approaching with his +smile and his impudence both in evidence. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“No chicken thievery,” snapped Stryker, flashing +his electric light into the big Gypsy’s face. +“Where are those kids?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“What kids? I got my own—and there’s a raft +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250'></a>250</span> +of them. I’ll give you a couple if you want.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Big Jim seemed perfectly calm and the other +Gypsies were like him. They routed out every +family in the camp. The constable and Neale +searched the tents and the vans. No trace of Tess +and Dot was to be found. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Everything you lay to the poor Gypsy,” said +Big Jim complainingly. “Now it is not chickens—it +is kids. Bah!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He slouched away. Stryker called after him: +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Never mind, Jim. We’ll get you yet! You +watch your step.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +He came back to the Kenway car shaking his +head. “I guess they have not been here. I’ll come +back to-morrow when the Gypsies don’t expect me +and look again if your little sisters do not turn +up elsewhere. What shall we do now?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes was weeping so that she could not speak. +Neale shook his head gloomily. Mr. Pinkney +sighed. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Well,” the latter said, “we might as well start +for home. No good staying here.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I’ll get you to Milton in much shorter time +than it took to get here,” said the constable. +“Keep right ahead, Mr. O’Neil. We’ll take the +first turn to the right and run on till we come to +Hampton Mills. It’s pretty near a straight road +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251'></a>251</span> +from there to Milton. And I can get a ride from +the Mills to my place with a fellow I know who +passes my house every morning.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Neale started the car and they left the buzzing +camp behind them. They had no idea that the +moment the sound of the car died away the Gypsies +leaped to action, packed their goods and chattels +again, and the tribe started swiftly for the +State line. Big Jim did not mean to be caught if +he could help it by Constable Stryker, who knew +his record. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The Corner House car whirred over the rather +good roads to Hampton Mills and there the constable +parted from them. He promised to report +any news he might get of the absent children, and +they were to send him word if Tess and Dot were +found. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The car rounded the pond where Sammy had +had his adventure at the ice-house and had ruined +his knickerbockers. It was a straight road from +that point to Milton. Going up the hill beside the +pond in the gray light of dawn, they saw ahead of +them a man laboring on in the middle of the road +with a child upon his shoulders, while two other +small figures walked beside him, clinging to his +coat. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“There’s somebody else moving,” said Mr. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252'></a>252</span> +Pinkney to Agnes. “What do you know about +little children being abroad at this time of the +morning?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Shall we give them a lift?” asked Neale. +“Only I don’t want to stop on this hill.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +But he did. He stopped in another minute because +Agnes uttered a piercing scream. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Tessie! Oh, Dot! It’s them! It’s the +children!” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Great Moses!” ejaculated Mr. Pinkney, forced +likewise into excitement, “is that Sammy Pinkney?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The man carrying Dot turned quickly. Tess and +Sammy both uttered eager yelps of recognition. +Dot bobbed sleepily above the head of the man +who carried her pickaback. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, Agnes! isn’t this my day for wearing that +bracelet? Say, isn’t it?” she demanded. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The dark man came forward, speaking very +politely and swiftly. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“It is the honest Kenway—yes? You remember +Costello? I am he. I find your sisters with +the bad Gypsies—yes. Then you will give me +Queen Alma’s bracelet—the great heirloom of our +family? I am friend—I bring children back for +you. You give me bracelet?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Tess and Dot were tumbled into their sister’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253'></a>253</span> +arms. Mr. Pinkney jumped out of the car and +grabbed Sammy before he could run. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Costello, the junkman, repeated his request over +and over while Agnes was greeting the two little +girls as they deserved to be greeted. Finally he +made some impression upon her mind. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, dear me!” Agnes cried in exasperation, +“how can I give it you? I don’t know where it is. +It’s been stolen.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Stolen? That Beeg Jeem!” Again Costello +exploded in his native tongue. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Tess nestled close to Agnes. She lifted her lips +and whispered in her sister’s ear: +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Don’t tell him. He’s a Gypsy, too, though I +guess he is a good one. I have got that bracelet +inside my dress. It’s safe.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +They did not tell Costello, the junkman, that at +this time. In fact, it was some months before Mr. +Howbridge, by direction of the Court, gave Queen +Alma’s bracelet into the hands of Miguel Costello, +who really proved in the end that he had the +better right to the bracelet that undoubtedly had +once belonged to the Queen of the Spanish +Gypsies. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +It had not been merely by chance that the young +Gypsy woman who had sold the green and yellow +basket to Tess and Dot had dropped that ornament +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254'></a>254</span> +into the basket. She had worn the bracelet, for +she was Big Jim’s daughter. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Without doubt it was the intention of the Gypsies +to engage the little girls’ interest through +this bracelet and get their confidence, to bring +about the very situation which they finally consummated. +One of the women confessed in court +that they could sell Tess and Dot for acrobats. +Or they thought they could. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +The appearance of Miguel Costello in Milton, +claiming the rightful ownership of the silver +bracelet, made the matter unexpectedly difficult for +Big Jim and his clan. Indeed, the Kenways had +much to thank Miguel Costello for. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +However, these mysteries were explained long +after this particular morning on which the children +were recovered. No such home-coming had +ever been imagined, and the old Corner House and +vicinity staged a celebration that will long be +remembered. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Luke Shepard had been put to bed soon after his +arrival. But he would not be content until he got +up again and came downstairs in his bathrobe to +greet the returned wanderers. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Agnes just threw herself into Ruth’s arms when +she first saw her elder sister, crying: +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh! don’t you <em>dare</em> ever go away again, Ruth +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255'></a>255</span> +Kenway, without taking the rest of us with you. +We’re not fit to be left alone.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“I am afraid some day, Agnes, you will have to +get along without me,” said Ruth placidly, but +smiling into Luke’s eyes as she said it. “You +know, we are growing up.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Aggie isn’t ever going to grow up,” grumbled +Neale. “She is just a kid.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, is <em>that</em> so, Mr. Smartie?” cried Agnes, suddenly +drying her eyes. “I’d have you know I am +just as much grown up as you are.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, dear, me, I’m so sleepy,” moaned Dot. +“I—I didn’t sleep very well at all last night.” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Goodness! I should think Sammy and I ought +to be the ones to be sleepy. We didn’t have any +chance at all!” Tess exclaimed. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +As for Sammy, he was taken home by an apparently +very stern father to meet a wildly grateful +mother. Mrs. Pinkney drew the sting from all +verbal punishment Mr. Pinkney might have given +his son. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“And the dear boy! I knew he had not forgotten +us when I found he had taken that picture +with him. Did you, Sammy?” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Did I what, Mom?” asked Sammy, his mouth +comfortably filled with cake. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“That picture. You know, the one we all had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256'></a>256</span> +taken down at Pleasant Cove that time. The one +of your father and you and me that you kept on +your bureau. When I saw that you had taken that +with you to remember us by——” +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +“Oh, crickey, Mom! Buster, the bull pup, ate +that old picture up a month ago,” said the nonsentimental +Sammy. +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p> </p> +<p>THE END</p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +Charming Stories for Girls<br /> +<b>THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS SERIES</b><br /> +By Grace Brooks Hill<br /> +</p> +<div class='figleft' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i006' id='i006'></a> +<img src='images/illus-ad1.png' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Four girls from eight to fourteen years of age receive word that +a rich bachelor uncle has died, leaving them the old Corner House +he occupied. They move into it and then the fun begins. What they +find and do will provoke many a hearty laugh. Later, they enter +school and make many friends. One of these invites the girls to +spend a few weeks at a bungalow owned by her parents, and the +adventures they meet with make very interesting reading. Clean, +wholesome stories of humor and adventure, sure to appeal to all +young girls. +</p> +<p> + 1 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS.<br /> + 2 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AT SCHOOL.<br /> + 3 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS UNDER CANVAS.<br /> + 4 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS IN A PLAY.<br /> + 5 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS’ ODD FIND.<br /> + 6 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON A TOUR.<br /> + 7 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS GROWING UP.<br /> + 8 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS SNOWBOUND.<br /> + 9 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON A HOUSEBOAT.<br /> + 10 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AMONG THE GYPSIES.<br /> + 11 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON PALM ISLAND.<br /> + 12 THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS SOLVE A MYSTERY.<br /> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +BARSE & HOPKINS +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +New York, N.Y., Newark, N.J. +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<b>“THE POLLY” SERIES</b><br /> +By Dorothy Whitehill<br /> +</p> +<div class='figleft' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i007' id='i007'></a> +<img src='images/illus-ad2.png' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Polly Pendleton is a resourceful, wide-awake American girl who +goes to a boarding school on the Hudson River some miles above +New York. By her pluck and resourcefulness, she soon makes a +place for herself and this she holds right through the course. +The account of boarding school life is faithful and pleasing and +will attract every girl in her teens. +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Cloth, large 12 mo. Illustrated +</p> +<p> + 1 POLLY’S FIRST SUMMER YEAR AT BOARDING SCHOOL<br /> + 2 POLLY’S SUMMER VACATION<br /> + 3 POLLY’S SENIOR YEAR AT BOARDING SCHOOL<br /> + 4 POLLY SEES THE WORLD AT WAR<br /> + 5 POLLY AND LOIS<br /> + 6 POLLY AND BOB<br /> + 7 POLLY’S RE-UNION<br /> + 8 POLLY’S POLLY<br /> +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +BARSE & HOPKINS +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +Publishers +</p> +<p style='margin-right: 2em;'> +New York, N.Y., Newark, N.J. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AMONG THE GYPSIES***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 36400-h.txt or 36400-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/4/0/36400">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/4/0/36400</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Corner House Girls Among the Gypsies + How They Met, What Happened, and How It Ended + + +Author: Grace Brooks Hill + + + +Release Date: June 12, 2011 [eBook #36400] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AMONG THE +GYPSIES*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 36400-h.htm or 36400-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/36400/36400-h/36400-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/36400/36400-h.zip) + + + + + +[Illustration: One young woman brought a great pan of stew and bread +and three spoons to the van. _Frontispiece._] + + +THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AMONG THE GYPSIES + +How They Met +What Happened +And How It Ended + +by + +GRACE BROOKS HILL + +Author of "The Corner House Girls," "The Corner House +Girls on a Houseboat," etc. + +Illustrated by Thelma Gooch + + + + + + + +Barse & Hopkins +Publishers +Newark, N. J. New York, N. Y. + + + * * * * * + + + BOOKS FOR GIRLS + The Corner House Girls Series + By Grace Brooks Hill + _12mo. Cloth. Illustrated._ + + THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS + THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AT SCHOOL + THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS UNDER CANVAS + THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS IN A PLAY + THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS' ODD FIND + THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON A TOUR + THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS GROWING UP + THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS SNOWBOUND + THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON A HOUSEBOAT + THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AMONG THE GYPSIES + + Publishers + BARSE & HOPKINS + Newark, N. J. New York, N. Y. + + * * * * * + + +Copyright, 1921, +by +Barse & Hopkins + +_The Corner House Girls Among the Gypsies_ +Printed in U. S. A. + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I The Fretted Silver Bracelet 9 + II A Profound Mystery 20 + III Sammy Pinkney in Trouble 31 + IV The Gypsy Trail 40 + V Sammy Occasions Much Excitement 50 + VI The Gypsy's Words 60 + VII The Bracelet Again To the Fore 70 + VIII The Misfortunes of a Runaway 81 + IX Things Go Wrong 90 + X All Is Not Gold That Glitters 100 + XI Mysteries Accumulate 108 + XII Getting in Deeper 114 + XIII Over the Hills and Far Away 122 + XIV Almost Had Him 134 + XV Uncertainties 143 + XVI The Dead End of Nowhere 149 + XVII Ruth Begins To Worry 157 + XVIII The Junkman Again 165 + XIX The House Is Haunted 175 + XX Plotters at Work 184 + XXI Tess and Dot Take a Hand 195 + XXII Excitement Galore 206 + XXIII A Surprising Meeting 217 + XXIV The Captives 234 + XXV It Must Be All Right 244 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + One young woman brought a great pan of stew and bread and three + spoons to the van Title + + "You have found it!" he chattered with great excitement 112 + + The girls could sit under the trees while Luke reclined on a + swinging cot 158 + + "They want that silver thing back. It wasn't meant for you" 203 + + + + +THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AMONG THE GYPSIES + + + + +CHAPTER I--THE FRETTED SILVER BRACELET + + +If Sammy Pinkney had not been determined to play a "joey" and hooked +back one of the garage doors so as to enter astride a broomstick with a +dash and the usual clown announcement, "Here we are again!" all would +not have happened that did happen to the Corner House girls--at least, +not in just the way the events really occurred. + +Even Dot, who was inclined to be forgiving of most of Sammy's sins both +of omission and commission, admitted that to be true. Tess, the next +oldest Corner House girl (nobody ever dignified her with the name of +"Theresa," unless it were Aunt Sarah Maltby) was inclined to reflect the +opinion regarding most boys held by their oldest sister, Ruth. Tess's +frank statement to this day is that it was entirely Sammy's fault that +they were mixed up with the Gypsies at all. + +But-- + +"Well, if I'm going to be in your old circus," Sammy announced doggedly, +"I'm going to be a joey--or _nothin'_." + +"You know very well, Sammy, that you can't be that," said Tess +reprovingly. + +"Huh? Why can't I? I bet I'd make just as good a clown as Mr. Sully +Sorber, who is Neale's half-uncle, or Mr. Asa Scruggs, who is +Barnabetta's father." + +"I don't mean you can't be a clown," interrupted Tess. "I mean you can't +be just _nothing_. You occupy space, so you must be something. Our +teacher says so." + +"Shucks!" ejaculated Sammy Pinkney. "Don't I know that? And I wish you +wouldn't talk about school. Why! we're only in the middle of our +vacation, I should hope." + +"It seems such a long time since we went to school," murmured Dot, who +was sitting by, nursing the Alice-doll in her arms and waiting her turn +to be called into the circus ring, which was the cleared space in the +middle of the cement floor. + +"That's because all you folks went off cruising on that houseboat and +never took me with you," grumbled Sammy, who still held a deep-seated +grouch because of the matter mentioned. "But 'tain't been long since +school closed--and it isn't going to be long before the old thing opens +again." + +"Why, Sammy!" admonished Tess. + +"I just _hate_ school, so I do!" vigorously announced the boy. "I'd +rather be a tramp--or a Gypsy. Yes, I would." + +"Or a pirate, Sammy?" suggested Dot reflectively. "You know, me and you +didn't have a very nice time when we went off to be pirates. 'Member?" + +"Huh!" grumbled Sammy, "that was because you was along. Girls can't be +pirates worth shucks. And anyway," he concluded, "I'm going to be the +joey in this show, or I won't play." + +"It will be supper time and the others will be back with the car, so +none of us can play if we don't start in pretty soon," Tess observed. +"Dot and I want to practice our gym work that Neale O'Neil has been +teaching us. But you can clown it all you want to, Sammy." + +"Well, that lets me begin the show anyway," Sammy stated with +satisfaction. + +He always did want to lead. And now he immediately ran to hook back the +door and prepared to make his entrance into the ring in true clowning +style, as he had seen Sully Sorber do in Twomley & Sorber's Herculean +Circus and Menagerie. + +The Kenway garage opened upon Willow Street and along that pleasantly +shaded and quiet thoroughfare just at this time came three rather odd +looking people. Two were women carrying brightly stained baskets of +divers shapes, and one of these women--usually the younger one--went into +the yard of each house and knocked at the side or back door, offering +the baskets for sale. + +The younger one was black-eyed and rather pretty. She was neatly dressed +in very bright colors and wore a deal of gaudy jewelry. The older woman +was not so attractive--or so clean. + +Loitering on the other side of the street, and keeping some distance +behind the Gypsy women, slouched a tall, roughly clad fellow who was +evidently their escort. The women came to the Kenway garage some time +after Sammy Pinkney had made his famous "entrance" and Dot had abandoned +the Alice-doll while she did several handsprings on the mattress that +Tess had laid down. Dot did these very well indeed. Neale O'Neil, who +had been trained in the circus, had given both the smaller Corner House +girls the benefit of his advice and training. They loved athletic +exercises. Mrs. McCall, the Corner House housekeeper, declared Tess and +Dot were as active as grasshoppers. + +The two dark-faced women, as they peered in at the open doorway of the +garage, seemed to think Dot's handsprings were marvelously well done, +too; they whispered together excitedly and then the older one slyly +beckoned the big Gypsy man across the street to approach. + +When he arrived to look over the women's heads it was Tess who was +actively engaged on the garage floor. She was as supple as an eel. Of +course, Tess Kenway would not like to be compared to an eel; but she was +proud of her ability to "wriggle into a bow knot and out again"--as Sammy +vociferously announced. + +"Say, Tess! that's a peach of a trick," declared the boy with +enthusiasm. "Say! Lemme--Huh! What do _you_ want?" For suddenly he saw +the two Gypsy women at the door of the garage. The man was now out of +sight. + +"Ah-h!" whined the old woman cunningly, "will not the young master and +the pretty little ladies buy a nice basket of the poor Gypsy? Good +fortune goes with it." + +"Gee! who wants to buy a basket?" scoffed Sammy. "You only have to carry +things in it." The bane of Sammy Pinkney's existence was the running of +errands. + +"But they _are_ pretty," murmured Tess. + +"Oh--oo! See that nice green and yellow one with the cover," gasped Dot. +"Do you suppose we've got money enough to buy that one, Tess? How nice +it would be to carry the children's clothes in when we go on picnics." + +By "children" Dot meant their dolls, of which, the two smaller Corner +House girls possessed a very large number. Several of these children, +besides the Alice-doll, were grouped upon a bench in the corner of the +garage as a part of the circus audience. The remainder of the spectators +were Sandyface and her family. Sandyface was now a great, _great_ +grandmother cat, and more of her progeny than one would care to catalog +tranquilly viewed the little girls' circus or rolled in kittenish frolic +on the floor. + +It sometimes did seem as though the old Corner House demesne was quite +given up to feline inhabitants. And the recurrent appearance of new +litters of kittens belonging to Sandyface herself, her daughters and +granddaughters, had ceased to make even a ripple in the pool of Corner +House existence. + +This explanation regarding the dolls and cats is really aside from our +narrative. Tess and Dot both viewed with eager eyes the particular +covered basket held out enticingly by the old Gypsy woman. + +Of course the little girls had no pockets in their gymnasium suits. But +in a pocket of her raincoat which Tess had worn down to the garage over +her blouse and bloomers, she found a dime and two pennies--"just enough +for two ice-cream cones," Sammy Pinkey observed. + +"Oh! And my Alice-doll has eight cents in her cunning little beaded +bag," cried Dot, with sudden animation. + +She produced the coins. But there was only twenty cents in all! + +"I--I--What do you ask for that basket, please?" Tess questioned +cautiously. + +"Won't the pretty little ladies give the poor old Gypsy woman half a +dollar for the basket?" + +The little girls lost hope. They were not allowed to break into their +banks for any purpose without asking Ruth's permission, and their +monthly stipend of pocket money was very low. + +"It is a very nice basket, little ladies," said the younger Gypsy +woman--she who was so gayly dressed and gaudily bejeweled. + +"I know," Tess admitted wistfully. "But if we haven't so much money, how +can we buy it?" + +"Say!" interrupted the amateur joey, hands in pockets and viewing the +controversy quite as an outsider. "Say, Tess! if you and Dot really want +that old basket, I've got two-bits I'll lend you." + +"Oh, Sammy!" gasped Dot. "A whole quarter?" + +"Have you got it here with you?" Tess asked. + +"Yep," announced the boy. + +"I don't think Ruth would mind our borrowing twenty-five cents of you, +Sammy," said Tess, slowly. + +"Of course not," urged Dot. "Why, Sammy is just like one of the family." + +"Only when you girls go off cruising, I ain't," observed Sammy, his face +clouding with remembrance. "_Then_ I ain't even a step-child." + +But he produced the quarter and offered it to Tess. She counted it with +the money already in her hand. + +"But--but that makes only forty-five cents," she said. + +The two Gypsy women spoke hissingly to each other in a tongue that the +children did not, of course, understand. Then the older woman thrust the +basket out again. + +"Take!" she said. "Take for forty-fi' cents, eh? The little ladies can +have." + +"Go ahead," Sammy said as Tess hesitated. "That's all the old basket is +worth. I can get one bigger than that at the chain store for seven +cents." + +"Oh, Sammy, it isn't as bee-_you_-tiful as this!" gasped Dot. + +"Well, it's a basket just the same." + +Tess put the silver and pennies in the old woman's clawlike hand and the +longed-for basket came into her possession. + +"It is a good-fortune basket, pretty little ladies," repeated the old +Gypsy, grinning at them toothlessly. "You are honest little ladies, I +can see. You would never cheat the old Gypsy, would you? This is all the +money you have to pay for the beautiful basket? Forty-fi' cents?" + +"Aw, say!" grumbled Sammy, "a bargain is a bargain, ain't it? And +forty-five cents is a good deal of money." + +"If--if you think we ought to pay more--" + +Tess held the basket out hesitatingly. Dot fairly squealed: + +"Don't be a ninny, Tessie Kenway! It's ours now." + +"The basket is yours, little ladies," croaked the crone as the younger +woman pulled sharply at her shawl. "But good fortune goes with it only +if you are honest with the poor old Gypsy. Good-bye." + +The two strange women hurried away. Sammy lounged to the door, hands in +pockets, to look after them. He caught a momentary glimpse of the tall +Gypsy man disappearing around a corner. The two women quickly followed +him. + +"Oh, what a lovely basket!" Dot was saying. + +"I--I hope Ruth won't scold because we borrowed that quarter of Sammy," +murmured Tess. + +"Shucks!" exclaimed their boy friend. "Don't tell her. You can pay me +when you get some more money." + +"Oh, no!" Tess said. "I would not hide anything from Ruth." + +"You couldn't, anyway," said the practical Dot. "She will want to know +where we got the money to pay for the basket. Oh, _do_ open it, Tess. +Isn't it lovely?" + +The cover worked on a very ingeniously contrived hinge. Had the children +known much about such things they must have seen that the basket was +worth much more than the price they had paid for it--much more indeed +than the price the Gypsies had first asked. + +Tess lifted the cover. Dot crowded nearer to look in. The shadows of the +little girls' heads at first hid the bottom of the basket. Then both saw +something gleaming dully there. Tess and Dot cried out in unison; but it +was the latter's brown hand that darted into the basket and brought +forth the bracelet. + +"A silver bracelet!" Tess gasped. + +"Oh, look at it!" cried Dot. "Did you _ever_? Do you s'pose it's real +silver, Tess?" + +"Of course it is," replied her sister, taking the circlet in her own +hand. "How pretty! It's all engraved with fret-work--" + +"Hey!" ejaculated Sammy coming closer. "What's that?" + +"Oh, Sammy! A silver bracelet--all fretted, too," exclaimed the highly +excited Dot. + +"Huh! What's that? 'Fretted'? When my mother's fretted she's--Say! how +can a silver bracelet be cross, I want to know?" + +"Oh, Sammy," Tess suddenly ejaculated, "these Gypsy women will be cross +enough when they miss this bracelet!" + +"Oh! Oh!" wailed Dot. "Maybe they'll come back and want to take it and +the pretty basket, Tess. Let's run and hide 'em!" + + + + +CHAPTER II--A PROFOUND MYSTERY + + +Tess Kenway was positively shocked by her sister Dot's suggestion. To +think of trying to keep the silver bracelet which they knew must belong +to the Gypsy woman who had sold them the green and yellow basket, was +quite a horrifying thought to Tess. + +"How _can_ you say such a thing, Dottie Kenway?" she demanded sternly. +"Of course we cannot keep the bracelet. And that old Gypsy lady said we +were honest, too. She could _see_ we were. And, then, what would Ruthie +say?" + +Their older sister's opinion was always the standard for the other +Corner House girls. And that might well be, for Ruth Kenway had been +mentor and guide to her sisters ever since Dot, at least, could +remember. Their mother had died so long ago that Tess but faintly +remembered her. + +The Kenways had lived in a very moderately priced tenement in Bloomsburg +when Mr. Howbridge (now their guardian) had searched for and found them, +bringing them with Aunt Sarah Maltby to the old Corner House in Milton. +In the first volume of this series, "The Corner House Girls," these +matters are fully explained. + +The six succeeding volumes relate in detail the adventures of the four +sisters and their friends--and some most remarkable adventures have they +had at school, under canvas, at the seashore, as important characters in +a school play, solving the mystery of a long-lost fortune, on an +automobile tour through the country, and playing a winning part in the +fortunes of Luke and Cecile Shepard in the volume called "The Corner +House Girls Growing Up." + +In "The Corner House Girls Snowbound," the eighth book of the series, +the Kenways and a number of their young friends went into the North +Woods with their guardian to spend the Christmas Holidays. Eventually +they rescued the twin Birdsall children, who likewise had come under the +care of the elderly lawyer who had so long been the Kenway sisters' good +friend. + +During the early weeks of the summer, just previous to the opening of +our present story, the Corner House girls had enjoyed a delightful trip +on a houseboat in the neighboring waters. The events of this trip are +related in "The Corner House Girls on a Houseboat." During this outing +there was more than one exciting incident. But the most exciting of all +was the unexpected appearance of Neale O'Neil's father, long believed +lost in Alaska. + +Mr. O'Neil's return to the States could only be for a brief period, for +his mining interests called him back to Nome. His son, however, no +longer mourned him as lost, and naturally (though this desire he kept +secret from Agnes) the boy hoped, when his school days were over, to +join his father in that far Northland. + +There was really no thought in the mind of the littlest Corner House +girl to take that which did not belong to her. Most children believe +implicitly in "findings-keepings," and it seemed to Dot Kenway that as +they had bought the green and yellow basket in good faith of the two +Gypsy women, everything it contained should belong to them. + +This, too, was Sammy Pinkney's idea of the matter. Sammy considered +himself very worldly wise. + +"Say! what's the matter with you, Tess Kenway? Of course that bracelet +is yours--if you want it. Who's going to stop you from keeping it, I want +to know?" + +"But--but it must belong to one of those Gypsy ladies," gasped Tess. "The +old lady asked us if we were honest. Of course we are!" + +"Pshaw! If they miss it, they'll be back after that silver thing fast +enough." + +"But, Sammy, suppose they don't know the bracelet fell into this +basket?" + +"Then you and Dot are that much in," was the prompt rejoinder of their +boy friend. "You bought the basket and all that was in it. They couldn't +claim the _air_ in that basket, could they? Well, then! how could they +lay claim to anything else in the basket?" + +Such logic seemed unanswerable to Dot's mind. But Tess shook a doubtful +head. She had a feeling that they ought to run after the Gypsies to +return to them at once the bracelet. Only, neither she nor Dot was +dressed properly to run through Milton's best residential streets after +the Romany people. As for Sammy-- + +Happily, so Tess thought, she did not have to decide the matter. +Musically an automobile horn sounded its warning and the children ran +out to welcome the two older Corner House girls and Neale O'Neil, who +acted as their chauffeur on this particular trip. + +They had been far out into the country for eggs and fresh vegetables, to +the farm, in fact, of Mr. Bob Buckham, the strawberry king and the +Corner House girls' very good friend. In these times of very high prices +for food, Ruth Kenway considered it her duty to save money if she could +by purchasing at first cost for the household's needs. + +"Otherwise," this very capable young housewife asked, "how shall we +excuse the keeping of an automobile when the up-keep and everything is +so high?" + +"Oh, _do_," begged Agnes, the flyaway sister, "_do_ let us have +something impractical, Ruth. I just hate the man who wrote the first +treatise on political economy." + +"I fancy it is 'household economy' you mean, Aggie," returned her +sister, smiling. "And I warrant the author of the first treatise on that +theme was a woman." + +"Mrs. Eva Adam, I bet!" chuckled Neale O'Neil, hearing this controversy +from the driver's seat. "It has always been in my mind that the First +Lady of the Garden of Eden was tempted to swipe those apples more +because the price of other fruit was so high than for any other reason." + +"Then Adam was stingy with the household money," declared Agnes. + +"I really wish you would not use such words as 'swipe' before the +children, Neale," sighed Ruth who, although she was no purist, did not +wish the little folk to pick up (as they so easily did) slang phrases. + +She stepped out of the car when Neale had halted it within the garage +and Agnes handed her the egg basket. Tess and Dot immediately began +dancing about their elder sister, both shouting at once, the smallest +girl with the green and yellow basket and Tess with the silver bracelet +in her hand. + +"Oh, Ruthie, what do you think?" + +"See how pretty it is! And they never missed it." + +"_Can't_ we keep it, Ruthie?" This from Dot. "We paid those Gypsy ladies +for the basket and all that was in it. Sammy says so." + +"Then it must be true of course," scoffed Agnes. "What is it?" + +"Well, I guess I know some things," observed Sammy, bridling. "If you +buy a walnut you buy the kernel as well as the shell, don't you? And +that bracelet was inside that covered basket, like the kernel in a nut." + +"Listen!" exclaimed Neale likewise getting out of the car. "Sammy's a +very Solomon for judgment." + +"Now don't you call me that, Neale O'Neil!" ejaculated Sammy angrily. "I +ain't a pig." + +"Wha--what! Who called you a pig, Sammy?" + +"Well, that's what Mr. Con Murphy calls _his_ pig--'Solomon.' You needn't +call me by any pig-name, so there!" + +"I stand reproved," rejoined Neale with mock seriousness. "But, see +here: What's all this about the basket and the bracelet--a two-fold +mystery?" + +"It sounds like a thriller in six reels," cried Agnes, jumping out of +the car herself to get a closer view of the bracelet and the basket. +"My! Where did you get that gorgeous bracelet, children?" + +The beauty of the family, who loved "gew-gaws" of all kinds, seized the +silver circlet and tried it upon her own plump arm. Ruth urged Tess to +explain and had to place a gentle palm upon Dot's lips to keep them +quiet so that she might get the straight of the story from the more +sedate Tess. + +"And so, that's how it was," concluded Tess. "We bought the basket after +borrowing Sammy's twenty-five cent piece, and of course the basket +belongs to us, doesn't it, Ruthie?" + +"Most certainly, my dear," agreed the elder sister. + +"And inside was that beautiful fretted silver bracelet. And that--" + +"Just as certainly belongs to the Gypsies," finished Ruth. "At least, it +does not belong to you and Dot." + +"Aw shu-u-cks!" drawled Sammy in dissent. + +Even Agnes cast a wistful glance at the older girl. Ruth was always so +uncompromising in her decisions. There was never any middle ground in +her view. Either a thing was right, or it was wrong, and that was all +there was to it! + +"Well," sighed Tess, "that Gypsy lady _said_ she knew we were honest." + +"I think," Ruth observed thoughtfully, "that Neale had better run the +car out again and look about town for those Gypsy women. They can't have +got far away." + +"Say, Ruth! it's most supper time," objected Neale. "Have a heart!" + +"Anyway, I wouldn't trouble myself about a crowd of Gypsies," said +Agnes. "They may have stolen the bracelet." + +"Oh!" gasped Tess and Dot in unison. + +"You know what June Wildwood told us about them. And she lived with +Gypsies for months." + +"Gypsies are not all alike," the elder sister said confidently in answer +to this last remark by Agnes. "Remember Mira and King David Stanley, and +how nice they were to Tess and Dottie?" she asked, speaking of an +incident related in "The Corner House Girls on a Tour." + +"I don't care!" exclaimed Agnes, pouting, and still viewing the bracelet +on her arm with admiration. "I wouldn't run _my_ legs off chasing a band +of Gypsies." + +They were all, however, bound to be influenced by Ruth's decision. + +"Well, I'll hunt around after supper," Neale said. "I'll take Sammy with +me. You'll know those women if you see them again, won't you, kid?" + +"Sure," agreed Sammy, forgiving Neale for calling him "kid" with the +prospect of an automobile ride in the offing. + +"But--but," breathed Tess in Ruth's ear, "if those Gypsy ladies don't +take back the bracelet, it belongs to Dot and me, doesn't it, Sister?" + +"Of course. Agnes! do give it back, now. I expect it will cause trouble +enough if those women are not found. A bone of contention! Both these +children will want to wear the bracelet at the same time. Don't _you_ +add to the difficulty, Agnes." + +"Why," drawled Agnes, slowly removing the curiously engraved silver +ornament from her arm, "of course they will return for it. Or Neale will +find them." + +This statement, however, was not borne out by the facts. Neale and Sammy +drove all about town that evening without seeing the Gypsy women. The +next day the smaller Corner House girls were taken into the suburbs all +around Milton; but nowhere did they find trace of the Gypsies or of any +encampment of those strange, nomadic people in the vicinity. + +The finding of the bracelet in the basket remained a mystery that the +Corner House girls could not soon forget. + +"It does seem," said Tess, "as though those Gypsy ladies couldn't have +meant to give us the bracelet, Dot. The old one said so much about our +being honest. She didn't expect us to _steal_ it." + +"Oh, no!" agreed Dot. "But Neale O'Neil says maybe the Gypsy ladies +stole it, and were afraid to keep it. So they gave it to us." + +"M-mm," considered Tess. "But that doesn't explain it at all. Even if +they wanted to get rid of the bracelet, they need not have given it to +us in such a lovely basket. Ruth says the basket is worth a whole lot +more than the forty-five cents we paid for it." + +"It _is_ awful pretty," sighed Dot in agreement. + +"Some day they will surely come back for the bracelet." + +"Oh, I hope not!" murmured the littlest Corner House girl. "It makes +such a be-_you_-tiful belt for my Alice-doll, when it's my turn to wear +it." + + + + +CHAPTER III--SAMMY PINKNEY IN TROUBLE + + +Uncle Rufus, who was general factotum about the old Corner House and +even acted as butler on "date and state occasions," was a very brown man +with a shiny bald crown around three-quarters of the circumference of +which was a hedge of white wool. Aided by Neale O'Neil (who still +insisted on earning a part of his own support in spite of the fact that +Mr. Jim O'Neil, his father, expected in time to be an Alaskan +millionaire gold-miner), Uncle Rufus did all of the chores about the +place. And those chores were multitudinous. + +Besides the lawns and the flower gardens to care for, there was a +good-sized vegetable garden to weed and to hoe. Uncle Rufus suffered +from what he called a "misery" in his back that made it difficult for +him to stoop to weed the small plants in the garden. + +"I don't know, Missy Ruth," complained the old darkey to the eldest +Corner House girl, "how I's goin' to get that bed of winter beets +weeded--I dunno, noways. My misery suah won't let me stoop down to them +rows, and there's a big patch of 'em." + +"Do they need weeding right now, Uncle Rufus?" + +"Suah do, Missy. Dey is sufferin' fo' hit. I'd send wo'd for some o' mah +daughter Pechunia's young 'uns to come over yere, but I knows dat all o' +them that's big enough to work is reg'larly employed by de farmers out +dat a-way. Picking crops for de canneries is now at de top-notch, Missy; +and even Burnejones Whistler and Louise-Annette is big enough to pick +beans." + +"Goodness me!" exclaimed Agnes, who overheard the old man's complaint. +"There ought to be kids enough around these corners to hire, without +sending to foreign lands for any. They are always under foot if you +_don't_ want them." + +"Ain't it de truf?" chuckled the old man. "Usual' I can't look over de +hedge without spyin' dat Sammy Pinkney and a dozen of his crew. They's +jest as plenty as bugs under a chip. But now--" + +"Well, why not get Sammy?" interrupted Ruth. + +"He ought to be of some use, that is sure," added Agnes. + +"Can yo' put yo' hand on dat boy?" demanded Uncle Rufus. "'Nless he's in +mischief I don't know where to look for him." + +"I can find him all right," Agnes declared. "But I cannot guarantee that +he will take the job." + +"Offer him fifty cents to weed those beet rows," Ruth said briskly. "The +bed I see is just a mat of weeds." They had walked down to the garden +while the discussion was going on. "If Sammy will do it I'll be glad to +pay the half dollar." + +She bustled away about some other domestic matter; for despite the fact +that Mrs. McCall bore the greater burden of housekeeping affairs, Ruth +Kenway did not shirk certain responsibilities that fell to her lot both +outside and inside the Corner House. + +After all was said and done, Sammy Pinkney looked upon Agnes as his +friend. She was more lenient with him than even Dot was. Ruth and Tess +looked upon most boys as merely "necessary evils." But Agnes had always +liked to play with boys and was willing to overlook their shortcomings. + +"I got a lot to do," ventured Sammy, shying as usual at the idea of +work. "But if you really want me to, Aggie--" + +"And if you want to make a whole half dollar," suggested Agnes, not much +impressed by the idea that Sammy would weed beets as a favor. + +"All right," agreed the boy, and shooing Buster, his bulldog, out of the +Corner House premises, for Buster and Billy Bumps, the goat, were sworn +enemies, Sammy proceeded to the vegetable garden. + +Now, both Uncle Rufus and Agnes particularly showed Sammy which were the +infant beets and which the weeds. It is a fact, however, that there are +few garden plants grown for human consumption that do not have their +counterpart among the noxious weeds. + +The young beets, growing in scattered clumps in the row (for each +seed-burr contains a number of seeds), looked much like a certain weed +of the lambs'-quarters variety; and this reddish-green weed pretty well +covered the beet bed. + +Tess and Dot had gone to a girls' party at Mrs. Adams', just along on +Willow Street, that afternoon, so they did not appear to disturb Sammy +at his task. In fact, the boy had it all his own way. Neither Uncle +Rufus nor any other older person came near him, and he certainly made a +thorough job of that beet bed. + +Mrs. McCall "set great store," as she said, by beets--both pickled and +fresh--for winter consumption. When Neale O'Neil chanced to go into the +garden toward supper time to see what Sammy was doing there, it was too +late to save much of the crop. + +"Well, of all the dunces!" ejaculated Neale, almost immediately seeing +what Sammy had been about. "Say! you didn't do that on purpose, did you? +Or don't you know any better?" + +"Know any better'n _what_?" demanded the bone-weary Sammy, in no mood to +endure scolding in any case. "Ain't I done it all right? I bet you can't +find a weed in that whole bed, so now." + +"Great grief, kid!" gasped the older boy, seeing that Sammy was quite in +earnest, "I don't believe you've left anything _but_ weeds in those +rows. It--it's a knock-out!" + +"Aw--I never," gulped Sammy. "I guess I know beets." + +"Huh! It looks as though you don't even know _beans_," chortled Neale, +unable to keep his gravity. "What a mess! Mrs. McCall will be as sore as +she can be." + +"I don't care!" cried the tired boy wildly. "I saved just what Aggie +told me to, and threw away everything else. And see how the rows are." + +"Why, Sammy, those aren't where the rows of beets were at all. See! +_These_ are beets. _Those_ are weeds. Oh, great grief!" and the older +boy went off into another gale of laughter. + +"I--I do-o-on't care," wailed Sammy. "I did just what Aggie told me to. +And I want my half dollar." + +"You want to be paid for wasting all Mrs. McCall's beets?" + +"I don't care, I earned it." + +Neale could not deny the statement. As far as the work went, Sammy +certainly had spent time and labor on the unfortunate task. + +"Wait a minute," said Neale, as Sammy started away in anger. "Maybe all +those beet plants you pulled up aren't wilted. We can save some of them. +Beets grow very well when they are transplanted--especially if the ground +is wet enough and the sun isn't too hot. It looks like rain for +to-night, anyway." + +"Aw--I--" + +"Come on! We'll get some water and stick out what we can save. I'll help +you and the girls needn't know you were such a dummy." + +"Dummy, yourself!" snarled the tired and over-wrought boy. "I'll never +weed another beet again--no, I won't!" + +Sammy made a bee-line out of the garden and over the fence into Willow +Street, leaving Neale fairly shaking with laughter, yet fully realizing +how dreadfully cut-up Sammy must feel. + +The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune seem much greater to the +mind of a youngster like Sammy Pinkney than to an adult person. The +ridicule which he knew he must suffer because of his mistake about the +beet bed, seemed something that he really could not bear. Besides, he +had worked all the afternoon for nothing (as he presumed) and only the +satisfaction of having earned fifty cents would have counteracted the +ache in his muscles. + +Harried by his disappointment, Sammy was met by his mother in a stern +mood, her first question being: + +"Where have you been wasting your time ever since dinner, Sammy Pinkney? +I never did see such a lazy boy!" + +It was true that he had wasted his time. But his sore muscles cried out +against the charge that he was lazy. + +He could not explain, however, without revealing his shame. To be +ridiculed was the greatest punishment Sammy Pinkney knew. + +"Aw, what do you want me to do, Maw? Work _all_ the time? Ain't this my +vacation?" + +"But your father says you are to work enough in the summer to keep from +forgetting what work is. And look how grubby you are. Faugh!" + +"What do you want me to do, Maw?" + +"You might do a little weeding in our garden, you know, Sammy." + +"Weeding!" groaned the boy, fairly horrified by the suggestion after +what he had been through that afternoon. + +"You know very well that our onions and carrots need cleaning out. And I +don't believe you could even find our beets." + +"Beets!" Sammy's voice rose to a shriek. He never was really a bad boy; +but this was too much. "Beets!" cried Sammy again. "I wouldn't weed a +beet if nobody ever ate another of 'em. No, I wouldn't." + +He darted by his mother into the house and ran up to his room. Her +reiterated command that he return and explain his disgraceful speech and +violent conduct did not recall Sammy to the lower floor. + +"Very well, young man. Don't you come down to supper, either. And we'll +see what your father has to say about your conduct when he comes home." + +This threat boded ill for Sammy, lying sobbing and sore upon his bed. He +was too desperate to care much what his father did to him. But to face +the ridicule of the neighborhood--above all to face the prospect of +weeding another bed of beets!--was more than the boy could contemplate. + +"I'll run away and be a pirate--that's just what I'll do," choked Sammy, +his old obsession enveloping his harassed thoughts. "I'll show 'em! +They'll be sorry they treated me so--all of 'em." + +Just who "'em" were was rather vague in Sammy Pinkney's mind. But the +determination to get away from all these older people, whom he +considered had abused him, was not vague at all. + + + + +CHAPTER IV--THE GYPSY TRAIL + + +Mr. Pinkney, Sammy's father, heard all about it before he arrived home, +for he always passed the side door of the old Corner House on his return +from business. He came at just that time when Neale O'Neil was telling +the assembled family--including Mrs. McCall, Uncle Rufus, and Linda the +maid-of-all-work--about the utter wreck of the beet bed. + +"I've saved what I could--set 'em out, you know, and soaked 'em well," +said the laughing Neale. "But make up your mind, Mrs. McCall, that +you'll have to buy a good share of your beets this winter." + +"Well! What do you know about that, Mr. Pinkney?" demanded Agnes of +their neighbor, who had halted at the gate. + +"Just like that boy," responded Mr. Pinkney, shaking his head over his +son's transgressions. + +"Just the same," Neale added, chuckling, "Sammy says you showed him +which were weeds and which were beets, Aggie." + +"Of course I did," flung back the quick-tempered Agnes. "And so did +Uncle Rufus. But that boy is so heedless--" + +"I agree that Sammy pays very little attention to what is told him," +said Sammy's father. + +Here Tess put in a soothing word, as usual: "Of course he didn't mean to +pull up all your beets, Mrs. McCall." + +"And I don't like beets anyway," proclaimed Dot. + +"He certainly must have worked hard," Ruth said, producing a fifty-cent +piece and running down the steps to press it into Mr. Pinkney's palm. "I +am sure Sammy had no intention of spoiling our beet bed. And I am not +sure that it is not partly our fault. He should not have been left all +the afternoon without some supervision." + +"He should be more observing," said Mr. Pinkney. "I never did see such a +rattlebrain." + +"'The servant is worthy of his hire,'" quoted Ruth. "And tell him, Mr. +Pinkney, that we forgive him." + +"Just the same," cried Agnes after their neighbor, "although Sammy may +know beans, as Neale says, he doesn't seem to know beets! Oh, what a +boy!" + +So Mr. Pinkney brought home the story of Sammy's mistake and he and his +wife laughed over it. But when Mrs. Pinkney called upstairs for the boy +to come down to a late supper she got only a muffled response that he +"didn't want no supper." + +"He must be sick," she observed to her husband, somewhat anxiously. + +"He's sick of the mess he's made--that's all," declared Mr. Pinkney +cheerfully. "Let him alone. He'll come around all right in the morning." + +Meanwhile at the Corner House the Kenway sisters had something more +important (at least, as they thought) to talk about than Sammy Pinkney +and his errors of judgment. What Dot had begun to call the "fretful +silver bracelet" was a very live topic. + +The local jeweler had pronounced the bracelet of considerable value +because of its workmanship. It did not seem possible that the Gypsy +women could have dropped the bracelet into the basket they had sold the +smaller Corner House girls and then forgotten all about it. + +"It is not reasonable," Ruth Kenway declared firmly, "that it could just +be a mistake. That basket is worth two dollars at least; and they sold +it to the children for forty-five cents. It is mysterious." + +"They seemed to like Tess and me a whole lot," Dot said complacently. +"That is why they gave it to us so cheap." + +"And that is the very reason I am worried," Ruth added. + +"Why don't you report it to the police?" croaked Aunt Sarah Maltby. +"Maybe they'll try to rob the house." + +"O-oh," gasped Dot, round-eyed. + +"Who? The police?" giggled Agnes in Ruth's ear. + +"Maybe we ought to look again for those Gypsy ladies," Tess said. "But +the bracelet is awful pretty." + +"I tell you! Let's ask June Wildwood. She knows all about Gypsies," +cried Agnes. "She used to travel with them. Don't you remember, Ruth? +They called her Queen Zaliska, and she made believe tell fortunes. Of +course, not being a real Gypsy she could not tell them very well." + +"Crickey!" ejaculated Neale O'Neil, who was present. "You don't believe +in that stuff, do you, Aggie?" + +"I don't know whether I do or not. But it's awfully thrilling to think +of learning ahead what is going to happen." + +"Huh!" snorted her boy friend. "Like the weather man, eh? But he has +some scientific data to go on." + +"Probably the Gypsy fortune tellers have reduced their business to a +science, too," Ruth calmly said. + +"Anyhow," laughed Neale, "Queen Zaliska now works in Byburg's candy +store. Some queen, I'll tell the world!" + +"Neale!" admonished Ruth. "_Such_ slang!" + +"Come on, Neale," said the excited Agnes. "Let you and me go down to +Byburg's and ask her about the bracelet." + +"I really don't see how June can tell us anything," observed Ruth +slowly. + +"Anyway," Agnes briskly said, putting on her hat, "we need some candy. +Come on, Neale." + +The Wildwoods were Southerners who had not lived long in Milton. Their +story is told in "The Corner House Girls Under Canvas." The Kenways were +very well acquainted with Juniper Wildwood and her sister, Rosa. Agnes +felt privileged to question June about her life with the Gypsies. + +"I saw Big Jim in town the other day," confessed the girl behind the +candy counter the moment Agnes broached the subject. "I am awfully +afraid of him. I ran all the way home. And I told Mr. Budd, the +policeman on this beat, and I think Mr. Budd warned Big Jim to get out +of town. There is some talk about getting a law through the Legislature +putting a heavy tax on each Gypsy family that does not keep moving. +_That_ will drive them away from Milton quicker than anything else. And +that Big Jim is a bad, bad man. Why! he's been in jail for stealing." + +"Oh, my! He's a regular convict, then," gasped Agnes, much impressed. + +"Pshaw!" said Neale. "They don't call a man a convict unless he has been +sent to the State prison, or to the Federal penitentiary. But that Big +Jim looked to be tough enough, when we saw him down at Pleasant Cove, to +belong in prison for life. Remember him, Aggie?" + +"The children did not say anything about a Gypsy man," observed his +friend. "There were two Gypsy women." + +She went on to tell June Wildwood all about the basket purchase and the +finding of the silver bracelet. The older girl shook her head solemnly +as she said: + +"I don't understand it at all. Gypsies are always shrewd bargainers. +They never sell things for less than they cost." + +"But they made that basket," Agnes urged. "Perhaps it didn't cost them +so much as Ruth thinks." + +June smiled in a superior way. "Oh, no, they didn't make it. They don't +waste their time nowadays making baskets when they can buy them from the +factories so much cheaper and better. Oh, no!" + +"Crackey!" exclaimed Neale. "Then they are fakers, are they?" + +"That bracelet is no fake," declared Agnes. + +"That is what puzzles me most," said June. "Gypsies are very tricky. At +least, all I ever knew. And if those two women you speak of belonged to +Big Jim's tribe, I would not trust them at all." + +"But it seems they have done nothing at all bad in this case," Agnes +observed. + +"Tess and Dot are sure ahead of the game, so far," chuckled Neale in +agreement. + +"Just the same," said June Wildwood, "I would not be careless. Don't let +the children talk to the Gypsies if they come back for the bracelet. Be +sure to have some older person see the women and find out what they +want. Oh, they are very sly." + +June had then to attend to other customers, and Agnes and Neale walked +home. On the way they decided that there was no use in scaring the +little ones about the Gypsies. + +"I don't believe in bugaboos," Agnes declared. "We'll just tell Ruth." + +This she proceeded to do. But perhaps she did not repeat June Wildwood's +warning against the Gypsy band with sufficient emphasis to impress +Ruth's mind. Or just about this time the older Corner House girl had +something of much graver import to trouble her thought. + +By special delivery, on this evening just before they retired, arrived +an almost incoherent letter from Cecile Shepard, part of which Ruth read +aloud to Agnes: + + "... and just as Aunt Lorina is only beginning to get better! I feel + as though this family is fated to have trouble this year. Luke was + doing so well at the hotel and the proprietor liked him. It isn't + _his_ fault that that outside stairway was untrustworthy and fell with + him. The doctor says it is only a strained back and a broken wrist. + But Luke is in bed. I am going by to-morrow's train to see for myself. + I don't dare tell Aunt Lorina--nor even Neighbor. Neighbor--Mr. + Northrup--is not well himself, and he would only worry about Luke if he + knew.... Now, don't _you_ worry, and I will send you word how Luke is + just the minute I arrive." + +"But how can I help being anxious?" Ruth demanded of her sister. "Poor +Luke! And he was working so hard this summer so as not to be obliged to +depend entirely on Neighbor for his college expenses next year." + +Ruth was deeply interested in Luke Shepard--had been, in fact, since the +winter previous when all the Corner House family were snowbound at the +Birdsall winter camp in the North Woods. Of course, Ruth and Luke were +both very young, and Luke had first to finish his college course and get +into business. + +Still and all, the fact that Luke Shepard had been hurt quite dwarfed +the Gypsy bracelet matter in Ruth's mind. And in that of Agnes, too, of +course. + +In addition, the very next morning Mrs. Pinkney ran across the street +and in at the side door of the Corner House in a state of panic. + +"Oh! have you seen him?" she cried. + +"Seen whom, Mrs. Pinkney?" asked Ruth with sympathy. + +"Is Buster lost again?" demanded Tess, poising a spoonful of breakfast +food carefully while she allowed her curiosity to take precedence over +the business of eating. "That dog always _is_ getting lost." + +"It isn't Sammy's dog," wailed Mrs. Pinkney. "It is Sammy himself. I +can't find him." + +"Can't find Sammy?" repeated Agnes. + +"His bed hasn't been slept in! I thought he was just sulky last night. +But he is _gone_!" + +"Well," said Tess, practically, "Sammy is always running away, you +know." + +"Oh, this is serious," cried the distracted mother. "He has broken open +his bank and taken all his money--almost four dollars." + +"My!" murmured Dot, "it must cost lots more to run away and be pirates +now than it used to." + +"Everything is much higher," agreed Tess. + + + + +CHAPTER V--SAMMY OCCASIONS MUCH EXCITEMENT + + +"I do hope and pray," Aunt Sarah Maltby declared, "that Mrs. Pinkney +won't go quite distracted about that boy. Boys make so much trouble +usually that a body would near about believe that it must be an occasion +for giving thanks to get rid of one like Sammy Pinkney." + +This was said of course after Sammy's mother had gone home in tears--and +Agnes had accompanied her to give such comfort as she might. The whole +neighborhood was roused about the missing Sammy. All agreed that the boy +never was of so much importance as when he was missing. + +"I do hope and pray that the little rascal will turn up soon," continued +Aunt Sarah, "for Mrs. Pinkney's sake." + +"I wonder," murmured Dot to Tess, "why it is Aunt Sarah always says she +'hopes and prays'? Wouldn't just praying be enough? You're sure to get +what you pray for, aren't you?" + +"But what is the use of praying if you don't hope?" demanded Tess, the +hair-splitting theologian. "They must go together, Dot. I should think +you'd see that." + +Mrs. Pinkney had lost hope of finding Sammy, however, right at the +start. She knew him of course of old. He had been running away ever +since he could toddle out of the gate; but she and Mr. Pinkney tried to +convince themselves that each time would be the last--that he was +"cured." + +For almost always Sammy's runaway escapades ended disastrously for him +and covered him with ridicule. Particularly ignominious was the result +of his recent attempt, which is narrated in the volume immediately +preceding this, to accompany the Corner House Girls on their canal-boat +cruise, when he appeared as a stowaway aboard the boat in the company of +Billy Bumps, the goat. + +"And he hasn't even taken Buster with him this time," proclaimed Mrs. +Pinkney. "He chained Buster down cellar and the dog began to howl. So +mournful! It got on my nerves. I went down after Mr. Pinkney went to +business early this morning and let Buster out. Then, because of the +dog's actions, I began to suspect Sammy had gone. I called him. No +answer. And he hadn't had any supper last night either." + +"I am awfully sorry, Mrs. Pinkney," Agnes said. "It was too bad about +the beets. But he needn't have run away because of _that_. Ruth sent him +his fifty cents, you know." + +"That's just it!" exclaimed the distracted woman. "His father did not +give Sammy the half dollar. As long as the boy was so sulky last +evening, and refused to come down to eat, Mr. Pinkney said let him wait +for that money till he came down this morning. _He_ thought Ruth was too +good. Sammy is always doing something." + +"Oh, he's not so bad," said the comforting Agnes. "I am sure there are +lots worse boys. And are you sure, Mrs. Pinkney, that he has really run +away this time?" + +"Buster can't find him. The poor dog has been running around and +snuffing for an hour. I've telephoned to his father." + +"Who--_what_? Buster's father?" + +"Mr. Pinkney," explained Sammy's mother. "I suppose he'll tell the +police. He says--Mr. Pinkney does--that the police must think it is a +'standing order' on their books to find Sammy." + +"Oh, my!" giggled Agnes, who was sure to appreciate the comical side of +the most serious situation. "I should think the policemen would be so +used to looking for Sammy that they would pick him up anywhere they +chanced to see him with the idea that he was running away." + +"Well," sighed Mrs. Pinkney, "Buster can't find him. There he lies +panting over by the currant bushes. The poor dog has run his legs off." + +"I don't believe bulldogs are very keen on a scent. Our old Tom Jonah +could do better. But of course Sammy went right out into the street and +the scent would be difficult for the best dog to follow. Do you think +Sammy went early this morning?" + +"That dog began to howl soon after we went to bed. Mr. Pinkney sleeps so +soundly that it did not annoy him. But I _knew_ something was wrong when +Buster howled so. + +"Perhaps I'm superstitious. But we had an old dog that howled like that +years ago when my grandmother died. She was ninety-six and had been +bedridden for ten years, and the doctors said of course that she was +likely to die almost any time. But that old Towser _did_ howl the night +grandma was taken." + +"So you think," Agnes asked, without commenting upon Mrs. Pinkney's +possible trend toward superstition, "that Sammy has been gone +practically all night?" + +"I fear so. He must have waited for his father and me to go to bed. Then +he slipped down the back stairs, tied Buster, and went out by the cellar +door. All night long he's been wandering somewhere. The poor, foolish +boy!" + +She took Agnes up to the boy's room--a museum of all kinds of "useless +truck," as his mother said, but dear to the boyish heart. + +"Oh, he's gone sure enough," she said, pointing to the bank which was +supposed to be incapable of being opened until five dollars in dimes had +been deposited within it. A screw-driver, however, had satisfied the +burglarious intent of Sammy. + +She pointed out the fact, too, that a certain extension bag that had +figured before in her son's runaway escapades was missing. + +"The silly boy has taken his bathing suit and that cowboy play-suit his +father bought him. I never did approve of that. Such things only give +boys crazy notions about catching dogs and little girls with a rope, or +shooting stray cats with a popgun. + +"Of course, he has taken his gun with him and a bag of shot that he had +to shoot in it. The gun shoots with a spring, you know. It doesn't use +real powder, of course. I have always believed such things are +dangerous. But, you know, his father-- + +"Well, he wore his best shoes, and they will hurt him dreadfully, I am +sure, if he walks far. And I can't find that new cap I bought him only +last week." + +All the time she was searching in Sammy's closet and in the bureau +drawers. She stood up suddenly and began to peer at the conglomeration +of articles on the top of the bureau. + +"Oh!" she cried. "It's gone!" + +"What is it, Mrs. Pinkney?" asked Agnes sympathetically, seeing that the +woman's eyes were overflowing again. "What is it you miss?" + +"Oh! he is determined I am sure to run away for good this time," sobbed +Mrs. Pinkney. "The poor, foolish boy! I wish I had said nothing to him +about the beets--I do. I wonder if both his father and I have not been +too harsh with him. And I'm sure he loves us. Just think of his taking +_that_." + +"But what is it?" cried Agnes again. + +"It stood right here on his bureau propped up against the glass. Sammy +must have thought a great deal of it," flowed on the verbal torrent. +"Who would have thought of that boy being so sentimental about it?" + +"Mrs. Pinkney!" begged the curious Agnes, almost distracted herself now, +"_do_ tell me what it is that is missing?" + +"That picture. We had it taken--his father and Sammy and me in a group +together--the last time we went to Pleasure Cove. Sammy begged to keep it +up here. And--now--the dear child--has--has carried--it--away with him!" + +Mrs. Pinkney broke down utterly at this point. She was finally convinced +that at last Sammy had fulfilled his oft-repeated threat to "run away +for good and all"--whether to be a pirate or not, being a mooted +question. + +Agnes comforted her as well as she could. But the poor woman felt that +she had not taken her son seriously enough, and that she could have +averted this present disaster in some way. + +"She is quite distracted," Agnes said, on arriving home, repeating Aunt +Sarah's phrase. "Quite distracted." + +"But if she is extracted," Dot proposed, "why doesn't she have Dr. +Forsyth come to see her?" + +"Mercy, Dot!" admonished Tess. "_Dis_tracted, not _ex_tracted. You do so +mispronounce the commonest words." + +"I don't, either," the smaller girl denied vigorously. "I don't +mispernounce any more than you do, Tess Kenway! You just make believe +you know so much." + +"Dot! Mis_per_nounce! There you go again!" + +This was a sore subject, and Ruth attempted to change the trend of the +little girls' thoughts by suggesting that Mrs. McCall needed some +groceries from a certain store situated away across town. + +"If you can get Uncle Rufus to harness Scalawag you girls can drive over +to Penny & Marchant's for those things. And you can stop at Mr. +Howbridge's house with this note. He must be told about poor Luke's +injury." + +"Why, Ruthie?" asked little Miss Inquisitive, otherwise Dot Kenway. "Mr. +Howbridge isn't Luke Shepard's guardian, too, is he?" + +"Now, don't be a chatterbox!" exclaimed the elder sister, who was +somewhat harassed on this morning and did not care to explain to the +little folk just what she had in her mind. + +Ruth was not satisfied to know that Cecile had gone to attend her +brother. The oldest Kenway girl longed to go herself to the resort in +the mountains where Luke Shepard lay ill. But she did not wish to do +this without first seeking their guardian's permission. + +Tess and Dot ran off in delight, forgetting their small bickerings, to +find Uncle Rufus. The old colored man, as long as he could get about, +would do anything for "his chillun," as he called the four Kenway +sisters. It needed no coaxing on the part of Tess and Dot to get their +will of the old man on this occasion. + +Scalawag was fat and lazy enough in any case. In the spring Neale had +plowed and harrowed the garden with him and on occasion he was harnessed +to a light cart for work about the place. His main duty, however, was to +draw the smaller girls about the quieter streets of Milton in a basket +phaeton. To this vehicle he was now harnessed by Uncle Rufus. + +"You want to be mought' car'ful 'bout them automobiles, chillun," the +old man admonished them. "Dat Sammy Pinkney boy was suah some good once +in a while. He was a purt' car'ful driber." + +"But he's a good driver _now_--wherever he is," said Dot. "You talk as +though Sammy would never get back home from being a pirate. Of course he +will. He always does!" + +Secretly Tess felt herself to be quite as able to drive the pony as ever +Sammy Pinkney was. She was glad to show her prowess. + +Scalawag shook his head, danced playfully on the old stable floor, and +then proceeded to wheel the basket phaeton out of the barn and into +Willow Street. By a quieter thoroughfare than Main Street, Tess Kenway +headed him for the other side of town. + +"Maybe we'll run across Sammy," suggested Dot, sitting sedately with her +ever-present Alice-doll. "Then we can tell his mother where he is being +a pirate. She won't be so extracted then." + +Tess overlooked this mispronunciation, knowing it was useless to object, +and turned the subject by saying: + +"Or maybe we'll see those Gypsies." + +"Oh, I hope not!" cried the smaller girl. "I hope we'll never see those +Gypsy women again." + +For just at this time the Alice-doll was wearing the fretted silver +bracelet for a girdle. + + + + +CHAPTER VI--THE GYPSY'S WORDS + + +That very forenoon after the two smallest girls had set out on their +drive with Scalawag a telegram came to the old Corner House for Ruth. + +As Agnes said, a telegram was "an event in their young sweet lives." And +this one did seem of great importance to Ruth. It was from Cecile +Shepard and read: + + "Arrived Oakhurst. They will not let me see Luke." + +Aside from the natural shock that the telegram itself furnished, +Cecile's declaration that she was not allowed to see her brother was +bound to make Ruth Kenway fear the worst. + +"Oh!" she cried, "he must be very badly hurt indeed. It is much worse +than Cecile thought when she wrote. Oh, Agnes! what shall I do?" + +"Telegraph her for particulars," suggested Agnes, quite practically. "A +broken wrist can't be such an awful thing, Ruthie." + +"But his back! Suppose he has seriously hurt his back?" + +"Goodness me! That would be awful, of course. He might grow a hump like +poor Fred Littleburg. But I don't believe that anything like that has +happened to Luke, Ruthie." + +Her sister was not to be easily comforted. "Think! There must be +something very serious the matter or they would not keep his own sister +from seeing him." Ruth herself had had no word from Luke since the +accident. + +Neither of the sisters knew that Cecile Shepard had never had occasion +to send a telegram before and had never received one in all her life. + +But she learned that a message of ten words could be sent for thirty-two +cents to Milton, so she had divided what she wished to say in two equal +parts! The second half of her message, however, because of the mistake +of the filing clerk at the telegraph office in Oakhurst, did not arrive +at the Corner House for several hours after the first half of the +message. + +Ruth Kenway meanwhile grew almost frantic as she considered the possible +misfortune that might have overtaken Luke Shepard. She grew quite as +"extracted"--to quote Dot--as Mrs. Pinkney was about the absence of Sammy. + +"Well," Agnes finally declared, "if I felt as you do about it I would +not wait to hear from Mr. Howbridge. I'd start right now. Here's the +time table. I've looked up the trains. There is one at ten minutes to +one--twelve-fifty. I'll call Neale and he'll drive you down to the +station. You might have gone with the children if that telegram had come +earlier." + +Agnes was not only practical, she was helpful on this occasion. She +packed Ruth's bag--and managed to get into it a more sensible variety of +articles than Sammy Pinkey had carried in his! + +"Now, don't be worried about _us_," said Agnes, when Ruth, dressed for +departure, began to speak with anxiety about domestic affairs, including +the continued absence of the little girls. "Haven't we got Mrs. +McCall--and Linda? You _do_ take your duties so seriously, Ruth Kenway." + +"Do you think so?" rejoined Ruth, smiling rather wanly at the flyaway +sister. "If anything should happen while I am gone--" + +"Nothing will happen that wouldn't happen anyway, whether you are at +home or not," declared the positive Agnes. + +Ruth made ready to go in such a hurry that nobody else in the Corner +House save Agnes herself realized that the older sister was going until +the moment that Neale O'Neil drove around to the front gate with the +car. Then Ruth ran into Aunt Sarah's room to kiss her good-bye. But Aunt +Sarah had always lived a life apart from the general existence of the +Corner House family and paid little attention to what her nieces did +save to criticise. Mrs. McCall was busy this day preserving--"up tae ma +eyen in wark, ma lassie"--and Ruth kissed her, called good-bye to Linda, +and ran to the front door before any of the three actually realized what +was afoot. + +Agnes ran with her to the street. At the gate stood a dark-faced, +brilliantly dressed young woman, with huge gold rings in her ears, +several other pieces of jewelry worn in sight, and a flashing smile as +she halted the Kenway sisters with outstretched hand. + +"Will the young ladies let me read their palms?" she said suavely. "I +can tell them the good fortune." + +"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed Agnes, pushing by the Gypsy. "We can't stop to +have our fortunes told now." + +Ruth kept right on to the car. + +"Do not neglect the opportunity of having the good fortune told, young +ladies," said the Gypsy girl shrewdly. "I can see that trouble is +feared. The dark young lady goes on a journey because of the threat of +_ill_ fortune. Perhaps it is not so bad as it seems." + +Agnes was really impressed. Left to herself she actually would have +heeded the Gypsy's words. But Ruth hurried into the car, Neale reached +back and slammed the tonneau door, and they were off for the station +with only a few minutes to catch the twelve-fifty train. + +"There!" ejaculated Agnes, standing at the curb to wave her hand and +look after the car. + +"The blonde young lady does not believe the Gypsy can tell her something +that will happen--and in the near future?" + +"Oh!" exclaimed Agnes. "I don't know." And she dragged her gaze from the +car and looked doubtfully upon the dark face of the Gypsy girl which was +now serious. + +The latter said: "Something has sent the dark young lady from home in +much haste and anxiety?" + +The question was answered of course before it was asked. Any observant +person could have seen as much. But Agnes's interest was attracted and +she nodded. + +"Had your sister," the Gypsy girl said, guessing easily enough at the +relationship of the two Corner House girls, "not been in such haste, she +could have learned something that will change the aspect of the +threatened trouble. More news is on the way." + +Agnes was quite startled by this statement. Without explaining further +the Gypsy girl glided away, disappearing into Willow Street. + +Agnes failed to see, as the Gypsy quite evidently did, the leisurely +approach of the telegraph messenger boy with the yellow envelope in his +hand and his eyes fixed upon the old Corner House. + +Agnes ran within quickly. She was more than a little impressed by the +Gypsy girl's words, and a few minutes later when the front doorbell rang +and she took in the second telegram addressed to Ruth, she was pretty +well converted to fortune telling as an exact science. + + * * * * * + +Sammy Pinkney had marched out of the house late at night, as his mother +suspected, lugging his heavy extension-bag, with a more vague idea of +his immediate destination than was even usual when he set forth on such +escapades. + +To "run away" seemed to Sammy the only thing for a boy to do when home +life and restrictions became in his opinion unbearable. It might be +questioned by stern disciplinarians if Mr. and Mrs. Pinkney had properly +punished Sammy after he had run away the first few times, the boy would +not have been cured of his wanderlust. + +Fortunately, although Sammy's father was stern enough, he very well knew +that this desire for wandering could not be beaten out of the boy. +Merely if he were beaten, when he grew big enough to fend for himself in +the world, he would leave home and never return rather than face +corporal punishment. + +"I was just such a kid when I was his age," admitted Mr. Pinkney. "My +father licked me for running away, so finally I ran away when I was +fourteen, and stayed away. Sammy has less reason for leaving home than I +had, and he'll get over his foolishness, get a better education than I +obtained, and be a better man, I hope, in the end. It's in the Pinkney +blood to rove." + +This, of course, while perhaps being satisfactory to a man, did not at +all calm Sammy's mother. She expected the very worst to happen to her +son every time he disappeared; and as has been shown on this occasion, +the boy's absence stirred the community to its very dregs. + +Had Mrs. Pinkney known that after tramping as far as the outskirts of +the town, and almost dropping from exhaustion, Sammy had gone to bed on +a pile of straw in an empty cow stable, she would have been even more +troubled than she was. + +Sammy, however, came to no harm. He slept so soundly in fact on the rude +couch that it was mid-forenoon before he awoke--stiff, sore in muscles, +clamorously hungry, and in a frame of mind to go immediately home and +beg for breakfast. + +He had more money tied up in his handkerchief, however, than he had ever +possessed before when he had run away. There was a store in sight at the +roadside not far ahead. He hid his bag in the bushes and bought +crackers, ham, cheese, and a big bottle of sarsaparilla, and so made a +hearty if not judicious breakfast and lunch. + +At least, this picnic meal cured the slight attack of homesickness which +he suffered. He was no longer for turning back. The whole world was +before him and he strode away into it--lugging that extension-bag. + +While his troubled mother was showing Agnes Kenway the unmistakable +traces of his departure for parts unknown, Sammy was trudging along +pretty contentedly, the bag awkwardly knocking against his knees, and +his sharp eyes alive to everything that went on along the road. + +Sammy had little love for natural history or botany, or anything like +that. He suffered preparatory lessons in those branches of enforced +knowledge during the school year. + +He did not care a bit to know the difference between a gray squirrel and +a striped chipmunk. They both chattered at him saucily, and he stopped +to try a shot at each of them with his gun. + +To Sammy's mind they were legitimate game. He visualized himself +building a fire in a fence corner, skinning and cleaning his game and +roasting it over the flames for supper. But the squirrel and the +chipmunk visualized quite a different outcome to the adventure and they +refused to be shot by the amateur sportsman. + +Sammy struck into a road that led across the canal by a curved bridge +and right out into a part of the country with which he was not at all +familiar. The houses were few and far between, and most of them were set +well back from the road. + +Sometimes dogs barked at him, but he was not afraid of watch dogs. He +did not venture into the yards or up the private lanes. He had bought +enough crackers and cheese to make another meal when he should want it. +And there were sweet springs beside the road, or in the pastures where +the cattle grazed. + +Few vehicles passed him in either direction. It was the time of the late +hay harvest and everybody was at work in the fields--and usually when he +saw the haymakers at all, they were far from the road. + +He met no pedestrians at all. Being quite off the line of the railroad, +there were no tramps on this road, and of course there was nothing else +to harm the boy. His mother, in her anxiety, peopled the world with +those that would do Sammy harm. In truth, he was never safer in his +life! + +But adventure? Why, the world was full of it, and Sammy Pinkney expected +to meet any number of exciting incidents as he went on. + +"Sammy," Dot Kenway once said, "has just a _wunnerful_ 'magination. Why! +if he sees our old Sandyface creeping through the grass after a poor +little field mouse, Sammy can think she's a whole herd of tigers. His +'magination is just wunnerful!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII--THE BRACELET AGAIN TO THE FORE + + +While Sammy's sturdy, if short, legs were leaving home and Milton +steadily behind him, Dot and Tess were driving Scalawag, the calico +pony, to Penny & Marchant's store, and later to Mr. Howbridge's house to +deliver the note Ruth had entrusted to them. + +Their guardian had always been fond of the Kenway sisters--since he had +been appointed their guardian by the court, of course--and Tess and Dot +could not merely call at Mr. Howbridge's door and drive right away +again. + +Besides, there were Ralph and Rowena Birdsall. The Birdsall twins had of +late likewise come under Mr. Howbridge's care, and circumstances were +such that it was best for their guardian to take the twins into his own +home. + +Having two extremely active and rather willful children in his household +had most certainly disturbed Mr. Howbridge out of the rut of his old +existence. And Ralph and Rowena quite "turned the 'ouse hupside down," +to quote Hedden, Mr. Howbridge's butler. + +The moment the twins spied Tess and Dot in the pony phaeton they tore +down the stairs from their quarters at the top of the Howbridge house, +and flew out of the door to greet the little Corner House girls. + +"Oh, Tessie and Dot!" cried Rowena, who looked exactly like her brother, +only her hair was now grown long again and she no longer wore boy's +garments, as she had when the Kenways first knew her. "How nice to see +you!" + +"Where's Sammy?" Ralph demanded. "Why didn't he come along, too?" + +"We're glad to see you, Rowena and Rafe," Tess said sedately. + +But Dot replied eagerly to the boy twin: + +"Oh, Rafe! what do you think? Sammy's run away again." + +"Get out!" + +"I'm going to," said Dot, considering Ralph's ejaculation of amazement +an invitation to alight, and she forthwith jumped down from the step of +the phaeton. + +"You can't mean that Sammy has run off?" cried Ralph. "Listen to this, +Rowdy." + +"What a silly boy!" criticised his sister. + +"I don't know," chuckled Ralph Birdsall. "'Member how you and I ran away +that time, Rowdy?" + +"Oh--well," said his sister. "We had reason for doing so. But you know +Sammy Pinkney's got a father and a mother--And for pity's sake, Rafe, +stop calling me Rowdy." + +"And he's got a real nice bulldog, too," added Dot, reflectively +considering any possibility why Sammy should run away. "I can't +understand why he does it. He only has to come back home again. I did it +once, and I never mean to run away from home again." + +Meanwhile Tess left Ralph to hitch Scalawag while she marched up the +stone steps of the Howbridge house to deliver Ruth's note into Hedden's +hand, who took it at once to Mr. Howbridge. + +Dot interested the twins almost immediately in another topic. Rowena +naturally was first to spy the silver girdle around the Alice-doll's +waist. + +"What a splendid belt!" cried Rowena Birdsall. "Is it real silver, Dot?" + +"It--it's fretful silver," replied the littlest Corner House girl. "Isn't +it pretty?" + +"Why," declared Ralph after an examination, "it's an old, old bracelet." + +"Well, it is old, I s'pose," admitted Dot. "But my Alice-doll doesn't +know that. _She_ thinks it is a brand new belt. But of course she can't +wear it every day, for half the time the bracelet belongs to Tess." + +This statement naturally aroused the twins' curiosity, and when Tess ran +back to join them in the front yard the story of the Gypsy basket and +the finding of the bracelet lost nothing of detail by being narrated by +both of the Corner House girls. + +"Oh, my!" cried Rowena. "Maybe those Gypsies are just waiting to grab +you. Gypsies steal children sometimes. Don't they, Rafe?" + +"Course they do," agreed her twin. + +Dot looked rather frightened at this suggestion, but Tess scorned the +possibility. + +"Why, how foolish," she declared. "Dot and I were lost once--all by +ourselves. Even Tom Jonah wasn't with us. Weren't we, Dot? And we slept +out under a tree all night, and a nice Gypsy woman found us in the +morning and took us to her camp. Didn't she, Dot?" + +"Oh, yes! And an owl howled at us," agreed the smaller girl. "And I'd +much rather sleep in a Gypsy tent than have owls howl at me." + +"The owl _hooted_, Dot," corrected Tess. + +"Well, what's the difference between a hoot and a howl?" demanded Dot, +rather crossly. She did so hate to be corrected! + +"Well, of course," said Rowena Birdsall thoughtfully, "if you are +acquainted with Gypsies maybe you wouldn't be scared. But I don't +believe they gave you this bracelet for nothing." + +"No," agreed Dot quickly. "For forty-five cents. And we still owe Sammy +Pinkney twenty-five cents of it. And he's run away." + +So they got around again to the first exciting piece of news Tess and +Dot had brought, and were discussing that when Mr. Howbridge came out to +speak to the little visitors, giving them his written answer to Ruth's +note. He heard about Sammy's escapade and some mention of the Gypsies. + +"Well," he chuckled, "if Sammy Pinkney has been carried off by the +Gypsies, I sympathize with the Gypsies. I have a very vivid recollection +of how much trouble Sammy can make--and without half trying. + +"Now, children, give my note to Ruth. I am very sorry that Luke Shepard +is ill. If he does not at once recover it may be well to bring him here +to Milton. With his aunt only just recovering from her illness, it would +be unwise to take the boy home." + +This he said more to himself than to the little girls. Because of their +errand Tess and Dot could remain no longer. Ralph unhitched the pony and +Tess drove away. + +Around the very first corner they spied a dusty, rather battered +touring-car just moving away. A big, dark man, with gold hoops in his +ears, was driving it. There was a brilliantly dressed young woman in the +tonneau, which was otherwise filled with boxes, baskets, a crate of +fruit, and odd-shaped packages. + +"Oh, Tess!" squealed Dot. "See there!" + +"Oh, Dot!" rejoined her sister quite as excitedly. "That is the young +Gypsy lady." + +"Oh-oo!" moaned Dot. "Have we _got_ to give her back this fretful silver +bracelet, Tessie?" + +"We must _try_," declared Tess firmly. "Ruth says so. Get up, Scalawag! +Come on--hurry! We must catch them." + +The touring-car was going away from the pony-phaeton. Scalawag objected +very much to going faster than his usual easy jog trot--unless it were to +dance behind a band! _He_ didn't care to overtake the Gypsies' +motor-car. + +And that car was going faster and faster. Tess stopped talking to the +aggravating Scalawag and lifted up her voice to shout after the Gypsies. + +"Oh, stop! Stop!" she called. "Miss--Miss Gypsy! We've got something for +you! Why, Dot, you are not hollering at all!" + +"I--I'm trying to," wailed the smaller girl. "But I do so hate to make +Alice give up her belt." + +The Gypsy turned his car into a cross street ahead and disappeared. When +Scalawag brought the Corner House girls to that corner the car was so +far away that the girls' voices at their loudest pitch could not have +reached the ears of the Romany folk. + +"Now, just see! We'll never be able to give that bracelet back if you +don't do your share of the hollering, Dot Kenway," complained Tess. + +"I--I will," promised Dot. "Anyway, I will when it's your turn to wear +the bracelet." + +The little girls reached home again at a time when the whole Corner +House family seemed disrupted. To the amazement of Tess and Dot their +sister Ruth had departed for the mountains. Neale had only just then +returned from seeing her aboard the train. + +"And it's too late to stop her, never mind what Mr. Howbridge says in +this note," cried Agnes. "That foolish Cecile! Here is the second half +of her telegraph message," and she read it aloud again: + + "Until afternoon; will wire you then how he is." + +"Crickey!" gasped Neale, red in the face with laughter, and taking the +two telegrams to read them in conjunction: + + "Arrived Oakhurst. They will not let me see Luke until afternoon. Will + wire you then how he is." + +"Isn't that just like a girl?" + +"No more like a girl than it is like a boy," snapped Agnes. "I'm sure +all the brains in the world are not of the masculine gender." + +"I stand corrected," meekly agreed her friend. "Just the same, I don't +think that even you, Aggie, would award Cecile Shepard a medal for +perspicuity." + +"Why--_why_," gasped the listening Dot, "has Cecile got one of those +things the matter with her? I thought it was Luke who got hurt?" + +"You are perfectly right, Dottie," said Agnes, before Neale could laugh +at the little girl. "It _is_ Luke who is hurt. But this Neale O'Neil is +very likely to dislocate his jaw if he pronounces many such big words. +He is only showing off." + +"Squelched!" admitted Neale good-naturedly. "Well, what do you wish done +with the car? Shall I put it up? Can't chase Ruth's train in it, and +bring her back." + +"You might chase the Gypsies," suggested Tess slowly. "We saw them +again--Dot and me." + +"Oh! The Gypsies? What do you think, Neale? I do believe there is +something in that fortune-telling business," Agnes cried. + +"I bet there is," agreed Neale. "Money for the Gypsies." + +But Agnes repeated what the Gypsy girl had said to Ruth and herself just +as the elder Corner House girl was starting for the train. + +"I saw that Gyp of course," agreed Neale. "But, pshaw! she only just +_guessed_. Of course there isn't any truth in what those fortune tellers +hand you. Not much!" + +"There was something in that basket they handed Tess and me," said Dot, +complacently eyeing the silver girdle on the Alice-doll. + +"Say! About that bracelet, Aggie," broke in Neale. "Do you know what I +believe?" + +"What, Neale?" + +"I believe those Gypsies must have stolen it. Then they got scared, +thinking that the police were after them, and the women dropped it into +the basket the kids bought, believing they could get the bracelet back +when it was safe for them to do so." + +"Do you really suppose that is the explanation?" + +"I am afraid the bracelet is 'stolen goods.' Perhaps the children had +better not carry it away from the house any more. Or until we are sure. +The police--" + +"Mercy me, Neale! you surely would not tell the police about the +bracelet?" + +"Not yet. But I was going to suggest to Ruth that she advertise the +bracelet in the Milton _Morning Post_. Advertise it in the 'Lost and +Found' column, just as though it had been picked up somewhere. Then let +us see if the Gypsies--or somebody else--comes after it." + +"And if somebody does?" + +"Well, we can always refuse to give it up until ownership is proved," +declared Neale. + +"All right. Let's advertise it at once. We needn't wait for Ruth to come +back," said the energetic Agnes. "How should such an advertisement be +worded, Neale?" + +They proceeded to evolve a reading notice advertising the finding of the +silver bracelet, which when published added not a little to the +complications of the matter. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII--THE MISFORTUNES OF A RUNAWAY + + +In this present instance Sammy Pinkney was not obliged to exert his +imagination to any very great degree to make himself believe that he was +having real adventure. Romance very soon took the embryo pirate by the +hand and led him into most exciting and quite unlooked-for events. + +Sammy's progress was slow because of the weight of the extension-bag. +Yet as he trudged on steadily he put a number of miles behind him that +afternoon. + +Had his parents known in which direction to look for him they might +easily have overtaken the runaway. Neale O'Neil could have driven out +this road in the Kenway's car and brought Sammy back before supper time. + +Mr. Pinkney, however, labored under the delusion that because Sammy was +piratically inclined, he would head toward the sea. So he got in touch +with people all along the railroad line to Pleasant Cove, suspecting +that the boy might have purchased a ticket in that direction with a part +of the contents of his burglarized bank. + +The nearest thing to the sea that Sammy came to after passing the canal +on the edge of Milton was a big pond which he sighted about +mid-afternoon. Its dancing blue waters looked very cool and refreshing, +and the young traveler thought of his bathing suit right away. + +"I can hide this bag and take a swim," he thought eagerly. "I bet that +pond is all right. Hullo! There's some kids. I wonder if they would +steal my things if I go in swimming?" + +He was not incautious. Being mischievously inclined himself, he +suspected other boys of having similar propensities. The boys he had +observed were playing down by the water's edge where an ice-house had +once stood. But the building had been destroyed by fire, all but its +roof. The eaves of this shingled roof, which was quite intact, now +rested on the ground. + +The boys were sliding from the ridge of the roof to the ground, and then +climbing up again to repeat the performance. It looked to be a lot of +fun. + +After Sammy had hidden his extension-bag in a clump of bushes, he +approached the slide. One boy, who was the largest and oldest of the +group, called to Sammy: + +"Come on, kid. Try it. The slide's free." + +It looked to be real sport, and Sammy could not resist the invitation +given so frankly. He saw that the bigger boy sat on a piece of board +when he slid down the shingles; but the others slid on the seat of their +trousers--and so did Sammy. + +It proved to be an hilarious occasion. One might have heard those boys +shouting and laughing a mile away. + +A series of races were held, and Sammy Pinkney managed to win his share +of them. This so excited him that he failed for all of the time to +notice what fatal effect the friction was having upon his trousers. + +He was suddenly reminded, however, by a startling happening. All the +shingles on that roof were not worn smooth. Some were "splintery." Sammy +emitted a sharp cry as he reached the ground after a particularly swift +descent of the roof, and rising, he clapped his hand to that part of his +anatomy upon which he had been tobogganing, with a most rueful +expression on his countenance. + +"Oh, my! Oh, my!" cried Sammy. "I've got two big holes worn right +through my pants! My good pants, too. My maw will give me fits, so she +will. I'll never _dare_ go home now." + +The big boy who had saved his own trousers from disaster by using the +piece of board to slide on, shouted with laughter. But another of the +party said to Sammy: + +"Don't tell your mother. I aren't going to tell _my_ mother, you bet. By +and by she'll find the holes and think they just wore through +naturally." + +"Well," said Sammy, with a sigh, "I guess I've slid down enough for +to-day, anyway. Good-bye, you fellers, I'll see you later." + +He did not feel at all as cheerful as he spoke. He was really smitten +with remorse, for this was almost a new suit he had on. He wished +heartily that he had put on that cowboy suit--even his bathing +suit--before joining that coasting party. + +"That big feller," grumbled Sammy, "is a foxy one, he is! He didn't wear +through his pants, you bet. But _me_--" + +Sammy was very much lowered in his own estimation over this mishap. He +was by no means so smart as he had believed himself to be. He felt +gingerly from time to time of the holes in his trousers. They were of +such a nature that they could scarcely be hidden. + +"Crickey!" he muttered, "she sure will give me fits." + +The boys he had been playing with disappeared. Sammy secured his bag and +suddenly found it very, very heavy. Evening was approaching. The sun was +so low now that its almost level rays shone into his eyes as he plodded +along the road. + +A farmer going to Milton market in an auto-truck, its load covered with +a brown tarpaulin, passed Sammy. If it had not been for the holes in his +trousers, and what his mother would do and say about it, the boy surely +would have asked the farmer for a ride back home! + +His hesitancy cost him the ride. And he met nobody else on this road he +was traveling. He struggled on, his courage beginning to ebb. He had +eaten the last crumbs of his lunch. After the pond was out of sight +behind him the runaway saw no dwellings at all. The road had entered a +wood, and that wood grew thicker and darker as he advanced. + +Fireflies twinkled in the bushes. There was a hum of insect life and +somewhere a big bullfrog tuned his bassoon--a most eerie sound. A bat +flew low above his head and Sammy dodged, uttering a startled squawk. + +"Crickey! I don't like this a bit," he panted. + +But the runaway was no coward. He was quite sure that there was nothing +in these woods that would really hurt him. He could still see some +distance back from the road on either hand, and he selected a big +chestnut tree at the foot of which, between two roots, there was a +hollow filled with leaves and trash. + +This made not a bad couch, as he very soon found. He thrust the bag that +had become so heavy farther into the hollow and lay down before it. But +tired as he was, he could not at once go to sleep. + +Somewhere near he heard a trickle of water. The sound made the boy +thirsty. He finally got up and stumbled through the brush, along the +roadside in the direction of the running water. + +He found it--a spring rising in the bank above the road. Sammy carried a +pocket-cup and soon satisfied his thirst by its aid. He had some +difficulty in finding his former nest; but when he did come to the +hollow between two huge roots, with the broadly spreading chestnut tree +boughs overhead, he soon fell asleep. + +Nothing disturbed Sammy thereafter until it was broad daylight. He awoke +as much refreshed as though he had slept in his own bed at home. + +Young muscles recover quickly from strain. All he remembered, too, was +the fun he had had the day before, while he was foot-loose. Even the +disaster to his trousers seemed of little moment now. He had always +envied ragged urchins; they seemed to have so few cares and nobody to +bother them. + +He ran with a whoop to the spring, drank his fill from it, and then +doused his face and hands therein. The sun and air dried his head after +his ablutions and there was nobody to ask if "he had washed behind his +ears." + +He returned to the chestnut tree where he had lain all night, whistling. +Of course he was hungry; but he believed there must be some house along +the road where he could buy breakfast. Sammy Pinkney was not at all +troubled by his situation until, stooping to look into the cavity near +which he had slept, he made the disconcerting discovery that his +extension-bag was not there! + +"Wha--wha--_what_?" stammered Sammy. "It's gone! Who took it?" + +That he had been robbed while he went to the spring was the only +explanation there could be of this mysterious disappearance. At least, +so thought Sammy. + +He ran around the tree, staring all about--even up into the thickly +leaved branches where the clusters of green burrs were already formed. +Then he plunged through the fringe of bushes into the road to see if he +could spy the robber making away in either direction. + +All he saw was a rabbit hopping placidly across the highway. A jay flew +overhead with raucous call, as though he laughed at the bereft boy. And +Sammy Pinkney was in no mood to stand being laughed at! + +"You mean old thing!" he shouted at the flashing jay--which merely +laughed at him again, just as though he did know who had stolen Sammy's +bag and hugely enjoyed the joke. + +In that bag were many things that Sammy considered precious as well as +necessary articles of clothing. There was his gun and the shot for it! +How could he defend himself from attack or shoot game in the wilds, if +either became necessary? + +"Oh, dear!" Sammy finally sniffed, not above crying a few tears as there +was nobody by to see. "Oh, dear! Now I've _got_ to wear this good +suit--although 'tain't so good anyway with holes in the pants. + +"But all my other things--crickey! Ain't it just mean? Whoever took my +bag, I hope he'll have the baddest kind of luck. I--I hope he'll have to +go to the dentist's and have all his teeth pulled, so I do!" which, from +a recent experience of the runaway, seemed the most painful punishment +that could be exacted from the thief. + +Wishing any amount of ill-fortune for the robber would not bring back +his bag. Sammy quite realized this. He had his money safely tied into a +very grubby handkerchief, so that was all right. But when he started off +along the road at last, he was in no very cheerful frame of mind. + + + + +CHAPTER IX--THINGS GO WRONG + + +Of course there was no real reason why life at the old Corner House +should not flow quite as placidly with Ruth away as when the elder +sister was at home. It was a fact, however, that things seemed to begin +to go wrong almost at once. + +Having written the notice advertising the silver bracelet as though it +had been found by chance, Agnes made Neale run downtown again at once +with it so as to be sure the advertisement would be inserted in the next +morning's _Post_. + +As the automobile had not been put into the garage after the return from +taking Ruth to the station, Neale used it on this errand, and on his way +back there was a blowout. Of course if Ruth had been at home she could +scarcely have averted this misfortune. However, had she been at home the +advertisement regarding the bracelet might not have been written at all. + +Meanwhile, Mrs. McCall's preserve jars did not seal well, and the next +day the work had to be done all over again. Linda cut her finger "to the +bone," as she gloomily announced. And Uncle Rufus lost a silver dollar +somewhere in the grass while he was mowing the lawn. + +"An' dollars is as scarce wid me as dem hen's teef dey talks about," +said the old darkey. "An' I never yet did see a hen wid teef--an' Ah +reckon I've seen a million of 'em." + +"Oh-oo!" murmured Dot Kenway. "A million hens, Unc' Rufus? _Is_ there +that many?" + +"He, he!" chuckled the old man. "Ain't that the beatenes' chile dat ever +was? Always a-questionin' an' a-questionin'. Yo' can't git by wid any +sprodigious statement when she is around--no, suh!" + +Nor could such an expression as "sprodigious" go unchallenged with Dot +on the scene--no, indeed! A big word in any case attracted Miss Dorothy. + +"What does that mean, Unc' Rufus?" she promptly demanded. "Is--is +'sprodigious' a dictionary word, or just one of your made-up words?" + +"Go 'long chile!" chuckled the old man. "Can't Uncle Rufus make up words +just as good as any dictionary-man? If I knows what Ah wants to say, Ah +says it, ne'er mind de dictionary!" + +"That's all very well, Unc' Rufus," Tess put in. "But Ruthie only wants +us to use language that you find in books. So I guess you'd better not +take that one from Uncle Rufus, Dottie." + +"Howcome Missy Ruth so pertic'lar?" grumbled the old man. "Yo' little +gals is gettin' too much l'arnin'--suah is! But none of hit don't find de +ol' man his dollar." + +At this complaint Tess and Dot went to work immediately to hunt for the +missing dollar. It was while they were searching along the hedgerow next +to the Creamers' premises that the little girls got into their memorable +argument with Mabel Creamer about the lobster--an argument, which, being +overheard by Agnes, was reported to the family with much hilarity. + +Mabel, an energetic and sharp-tongued child, and Bubby, her little +brother, were playing in their yard. That is, Bubby was playing while +Mabel nagged and thwarted him in almost everything he wanted to do. + +"Now, don't stoop over like that, Bubby. Your face gets all red like a +lobster does. Maybe you'll turn into one." + +"I _ain't_ a lobs'er," shouted Bubby. + +"You will be one if you get red like that," repeated his sister in a +most aggravating way. + +"I won't be a lobs'er!" wailed Bubby. + +"Of course you won't be a lobster, Bubby," spoke up Tess from across the +hedge. "You're just a boy." + +"Course I's a boy," declared Bubby stoutly, sensing that Tess Kenway's +assurance was half a criticism. "I don't want to be a lobs'er--nor a +dirl, so there!" + +"Oh-oo!" gasped Dot. + +"You will be a lobster and turn all red if you are a bad boy," declared +Mabel, who was always in a bad temper when she was made to mind Bubby. + +"Why, Mabel," murmured Dot, who knew a thing or two about lobsters +herself, "you wouldn't boil Bubby, would you?" + +"Don't have to boil 'em to make 'em turn red," declared Mabel, referring +to the lobster, not the boy. "My father brought home live lobsters once +and the big one got out of the basket on to the kitchen floor." + +"Oh, my!" exclaimed the interested Dot. "What happened?" + +With her imagination thus spurred by appreciation, Mabel pursued the +fancy: "And there were three little ones in the basket, and that old, +big lobster tried to make them get out on the floor too. And when they +wouldn't, what do you think?" + +"I don't know," breathed Dot. + +"Why, he got so mad at them that he turned red all over. I saw him--" + +"Why, Mabel Creamer!" interrupted Tess, unable to listen further to such +a flight of fancy without registering a protest. "That can't be so--you +know it can't." + +"I'd like to know why it can't be so?" demanded Mabel. + +"'Cause lobsters only turn red when they are boiled. They are all green +when they are alive." + +"How do you know so much, Tess Kenway?" cried Mabel. "These are my +lobsters and I'll have them turn blue if I want to--so there!" + +There seemed to be no room for further argument. Besides, Mabel grabbed +Bubby by the hand and dragged him away from the hedge. + +"My!" murmured Dot, "Mabel has _such_ a 'magination. And maybe that +lobster did get mad, Tess. We don't know." + +"She never had a live lobster in her family," declared Tess, quite +emphatically. "You know very well, Dot Kenway, that Mr. Creamer wouldn't +bring home such a thing as a live lobster, when there are little +children in his house." + +"M--mm--I guess that's so," agreed Dot. "A live lobster would be worse +than Sammy Pinkney's bulldog." + +Thus reminded of the absent Sammy the two smaller Corner House girls +postponed any further search for Uncle Rufus's dollar and went across +the street to learn if any news had been gained of their runaway +playmate. Mrs. Pinkney was still despairing. She had imagined already a +score of misfortunes that might have befallen her absent son, ranging +from his eating of green apples to being run over by an automobile. + +"But, Mrs. Pinkney!" burst forth Tess at last, "if Sammy has run away to +sea to be a pirate, there won't be any green apples for him to eat--and +no automobiles." + +"Oh, you can never tell what trouble Sammy Pinkney will manage to get +into," moaned his mother. "I can only expect the very worst." + +"Well," Dot remarked with a sigh, as she and Tess trudged home to +supper, "I'm glad there is only one boy in _my_ family. My boy doll, +Nosmo King Kenway, will probably be a source of great anxiety when he is +older." + +"I wouldn't worry about that," Tess told her placidly. "If he is very +bad you can send him to the reform school." + +"Oh--oo!" gasped Dot, all her maternal instincts aroused at such a +suggestion. "That would be awful." + +"I don't know. They do send boys to the reform school. Jimmy Mulligan, +whose mother lives in that little house on Willow Wythe, is in the +reform school because he wouldn't mind his mother." + +"But they don't send Sammy there," urged Dot. + +"No--o. Of course," admitted the really tender-hearted Tess, "we know +Sammy isn't really naughty. He is only silly to run away every once in a +while." + +There was much bustle inside the old Corner House that evening. Because +they really missed Ruth so much, her sisters invented divers occupations +to fill the hours until bedtime. Tess and Dot, for instance, had never +cut out so many paper-dolls in all their lives. + +Another telegram had arrived from Cecile Shepard (sent, of course, +before Ruth had reached Oakhurst), stating that she had been allowed to +see her brother and that, although he could not be immediately moved, he +was improving and was absolutely in no danger. + +"If Ruthie had only waited to get _this_ message," complained Agnes, +"she would not have gone up there to the mountains at all. And just see, +Neale, how right that Gypsy girl was. There was news on the way that +changed the whole aspect of affairs. She was quite wonderful, _I_ +think." + +By this time Neale saw that it was better not to try to ridicule Agnes' +budding belief in fortune telling. "Less said, the soonest mended," was +his wise opinion. + +"I like Cecile Shepard," Agnes went on to say, "and always shall; but I +don't think she has shown much sense about her brother's illness. +Scaring everybody to death, and sending telegrams like a patch-work +quilt!" + +"Maybe Ruth will come right home again when she finds Luke is all +right," said Tess hopefully. "Dear, me! aren't boys a lot of trouble?" + +"Sammy and Luke are," agreed Dot. + +"All but Neale," said the loyal Agnes, her boy chum having departed. "I +don't see what this family would do without Neale O'Neil." + +In the morning the older sister's absence seemed to make quite as great +a gap in the household of the old Corner House as at night. But Neale +rushed in early with the morning paper to show Agnes their advertisement +in print. Under the "Lost and Found" heading appeared the following: + + "FOUND:--Silver bracelet, antique design. Owner can regain it by + proving property and paying for this advertisement. Apply Kenway, + Willow and Main Streets." + +"It sounds quite dignified," decided Agnes admiringly. "I guess Ruth +would approve." + +"Crickey!" ejaculated Neale O'Neil, "this is _one_ thing Ruth is not +bossing. We did this off our own bat, Aggie." + +"Just the same," ruminated Agnes, "I wonder what Mr. Howbridge will +say if he reads it?" + +"I am glad," said Neale with gratitude, "that my father doesn't +interfere with what I do. And I haven't any guardian, unless it is +dear old Con Murphy. Folks let me pretty much alone." + +"If they didn't," said Agnes saucily, "I suppose you would run away as +you did from the circus." + +"No," laughed her chum. "One runaway in the neighborhood is enough. +Mr. Pinkney has been up half the night, he tells me, telephoning and +sending telegrams. He has about made up his mind that Sammy hasn't +gone in the direction of Pleasant Cove, after all." + +"We ought to help hunt for Sammy," cried Agnes eagerly. "Let us take +Mrs. Pinkney in the auto, Neale, and search for that little rascal." + +"No. She will not leave the house. She wants to greet Sammy when he +comes back--no matter whether it is day or night," chuckled Neale. "But +Mr. Pinkney is going to get away from the office this afternoon, and +we'll take him. He is afraid his wife will be really ill." + +"Poor woman!" + +"She cannot be contented to sit down and wait for Sammy to turn up--as +he always does." + +"You mean, he always gets turned up," giggled Agnes. "Somebody is sure +to find him." + +"Well, then, it might as well be us," agreed Neale. "I'll tune up the +engine, and see that the car is all right. We should be able to go +over a lot of these roads in an afternoon. Sammy could not have got +very far from Milton in two days, or less." + + + + +CHAPTER X--ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS + + +Quite unsuspicious of the foregoing plans for his apprehension, Sammy +Pinkney was journeying on, going steadily away from Milton, and +traveling much faster now that he did not have to carry the +extension-bag. + +The boy had no idea who could have stolen his possessions; but he +rubbed his knuckles in his eyes, forced back the tears, and pressed +on, feeling that freedom even without a change of garments was +preferable to the restrictions of home and all the comforts there to +be found. + +He walked two miles or more and was very hungry before he came to the +first house. It stood just at the edge of the big wood in which Sammy +had spent the night. + +It was scarcely more than a tumbled-down hut, with broken panes of +glass more common than whole ones in the windows, these apertures +stuffed with hats and discarded garments, while half the bricks had +fallen from the chimney-top. There were half a dozen barefooted +children running about, while a very wide and red-faced woman stood in +the doorway. + +"Hullo, me bye!" she called to Sammy, as he lingered outside the +broken fence with a longing eye upon her. "Where be yez bound so airly +in the marnin'?" + +"I'm just traveling, Ma'am," Sammy returned with much dignity. +"Could--could you sell me some breakfast?" + +"Breakfast, is it?" repeated the smiling woman. "Shure, I'd give yez +it, if mate wasn't so high now. Come in me kitchen and sit ye down. +There's tay in the pot, and I'll fry yez up a spider full o' pork and +taters, if that'll do yez?" + +The menu sounded tempting indeed to Sammy. He accepted the woman's +invitation instantly and entered the house, past the staring children. +The two oldest of the group, a shrewd-faced boy and a sharp-featured +girl, stood back and whispered together while they watched the +visitor. + +Sammy was so much interested in the bountiful breakfast with which the +housewife supplied him that he thought very little about the children +peering in at the door and open windows. When he had eaten the last +crumb he asked his hostess how much he should pay her. + +"Well, me bye, I'll not overcharge ye," she replied. "If yez have ten +cents about ye we'll call it square--an' that's only for the mate, as I +said before is so high, I dunno." + +Sammy produced the knotted handkerchief, put it on the table and +untied it, displaying the coins it held with something of a flourish. +The jingle of so many dimes brought a sigh of wonder in unison from +the young spectators at door and windows. The woman accepted her dime +without comment. + +Sammy thanked her politely, wiped his mouth on his sleeve (napery was +conspicuous by its absence in this household) and started out the +door. The smaller children scattered to give him passage; the older +boy and girl had already gone out of the badly fenced yard and were +loitering along the road in the direction Sammy was traveling. + +"Hullo! Here's raggedy-pants," said the girl saucily, when Sammy came +along. + +"How did you get them holes in your breeches, kid?" added the boy. + +"Never you mind," rejoined Sammy gruffly. "They're _my_ pants." + +"Stuck up, ain't you?" jeered the girl and stuck out her tongue at +him. + +Sammy thought these were two very impolite children, and although he +was not rated at home for his own chivalrous conduct, he considered +these specimens in the road before him quite unpleasant young people. + +"Ne'er mind," said the boy, looking at Sammy slyly, "he don't know +everything. He ain't seen everything if he is traveling all by +himself. I bet he's run away." + +"I ain't running away from you," was Sammy's belligerent rejoinder. + +"You would if I said 'Boo!' to you." + +"No, I wouldn't." + +"Ya!" scoffed the girl, leering at Sammy, "don't talk so much. Do +something to him, Peter." + +Peter glanced warily back at the house. Perhaps he knew the large, +red-faced woman might take a hand in proceedings if he pitched upon +the strange boy. + +"I bet," he said, starting on another tack, "that he never saw a +cherry-colored calf like our'n." + +"I bet he never did," crowed the girl in delight. + +"A cherry-colored calf," scoffed Sammy. "Get out! There ain't such a +thing. A calf might be red; there _are_ red cows--" + +"This calf is cherry-colored," repeated the boy earnestly. "It's down +there in our pasture." + +"Don't believe it," said Sammy flatly. + +"'Tis so!" cried the girl. + +"I tell you," said the very shrewd-looking boy. "We'll show it to you +for ten cents." + +"I don't believe it," repeated Sammy, but more doubtfully. + +The girl laughed at him more scornfully than before. "He's afraid to +spend a dime--an' him with so much money," she cried. + +"I don't believe you've got a cherry-colored calf to show me." + +"Gimme the dime and I'll show you whether we have or not," said Peter. + +"No," said the cautious Sammy. "I'll give you a dime _if_ you show it +to me. But no foolin'. I won't give you a cent if the calf is any +other color." + +"All right," shouted the other boy. "Come on and I'll show you. Come +on, Liz." + +"All right, Peter," said the girl, quite as eagerly. "Hurry up, +raggedy-pants. We can use that dime, Peter and me can." + +The bare-legged youngsters got through a rail fence and darted down a +path into a scrubby pasture, as wild as unbroken colts. Sammy, feeling +fine after the bountiful breakfast he had eaten, chased after them +wishing that he had thought to remove his shoes and stockings too. +Peter and Liz seemed so much more free and untrammeled than he! + +"Hold on!" puffed Sammy, coming finally to the bottom of the slope. "I +ain't going to run my head off for any old calf--Huh!" + +From behind a clump of brush appeared suddenly a cow--a black and white +cow, probably of the Holstein breed. There followed a scrambling in +the bushes. Liz jumped into them with a shriek and drove out a little, +blatting, stiff-legged calf. It was all of a glossy black, from its +nose to the tip of its tail. + +"That's him! That's him!" shrieked Liz. "A cherry-colored calf." + +"What did I tell you?" demanded the boy, Peter. "Give us the dime." + +"You go on!" exclaimed Sammy. "I knew all the time you were +story-telling. That's no cherry-colored calf." + +"'Tis too! It's just the color of a black-heart cherry," giggled Liz. +"You got to give up ten cents." + +"Won't neither," Sammy declared. + +"I'll take it off you," threatened Peter, growing belligerent. + +"You won't," stubbornly declared Sammy, who did not propose to be +cheated. + +Peter jumped for him and Sammy could not run. One reason why he could +not retreat was because Liz grabbed him from the rear, holding him +around the waist. + +She pulled him over backward, while her brother began to pummel Sammy +most heartily from above. It was a most unfair attack and a most +uncomfortable situation for the runaway. Although he managed to defend +his face for the most part from Peter's blows, he could do little +else. + +"Lemme up! Lemme up!" bawled Sammy. + +"Gimme the dime," panted Peter. + +"I won't! 'Tain't fair!" gasped Sammy, too plucky to give in. + +Liz had now squirmed from under the struggling boys. She must have +seen at the house in which pocket Sammy kept the knotted handkerchief, +for she thrust her hand into that pocket and snatched out the hoard of +dimes before the owner realized what she was doing. + +"Hey! Stop! Lemme up!" roared Sammy again. + +"I got it, Peter!" shrieked Liz, and, springing up, she darted into +the bushes and disappeared. + +"Stop! She's stole my money," gasped Sammy in horror and alarm. + +"She never! You didn't have no money!" declared Peter, and with a +final blow that stunned Sammy for the moment, the other leaped up and +followed his wild companion into the brush. + +Sammy, weeping in good earnest now, bruised and scratched in body and +sore in spirit, climbed slowly to his feet. Never before in any of his +runaway escapades had he suffered such ignominy and loss. + +Why! he had actually fallen among thieves. First his bag and all his +chattels therein had been stolen. Now these two ragamuffins had robbed +him of every penny he possessed. + +He dared not go back to the house where he had bought breakfast and +complain. The other youngsters there might fall upon and beat him +again! + +Sammy Pinkney at last was tasting the bitter fruits of wrong doing. +Even weeding another beet-bed could have been no more painful than +these experiences which he was now suffering. + + + + +CHAPTER XI--MYSTERIES ACCUMULATE + + +"And if you go to the store, or anywhere else for Mrs. McCall or +Linda, remember _don't_ take that bracelet with you," commanded Agnes +in a most imperative manner, fairly transfixing her two smaller +sisters with an index finger. "Remember!" + +"Ruthie didn't say so," complained Dot. "Did she, Tess?" + +"But I guess we'd better mind what Agnes says when Ruth isn't at +home," confessed Tess, more amenable to discipline. "You know, Aggie +has got to be responsible now." + +"Well," muttered the rebellious Dot, "never mind if she is +'sponserble, she needn't be so awful bossy about it!" + +Agnes did, of course, feel her importance while Ruth was away. It was +not often that she was made responsible for the family welfare in any +particular. And just now the matter of the silver bracelet loomed big +on her horizon. + +She scarcely expected the advertisement in the _Morning Post_ to bring +immediate results. Yet, it might. The Gypsies' gift to the little +girls was a very queer matter indeed. The suggestion that the bracelet +had been stolen by the Romany folk did not seem at all improbable. + +And if this was so, whoever had lost the ornament would naturally be +watching the "Lost and Found" column in the newspaper. + +"Unless the owner doesn't know he has lost it," Agnes suggested to +Neale. + +"How's that? He'd have to be more absent-minded than Professor Ware +not to miss a bracelet like that," scoffed her boy chum. + +"Oh, Professor Ware!" giggled Agnes, suddenly. "_He_ would forget +anything, I do believe. Do you know what happened at his house the +other evening when the Millers and Mr. and Mrs. Crandall went to +call?" + +"The poor professor made a bad break I suppose," grinned Neale. "What +did he do?" + +"Why, Mrs. Ware saw the callers coming just before they rang the bell +and the professor had been digging in the garden. Of course she +straightened things up a little before she appeared in the parlor to +welcome the visitors. But the professor did not appear. Somebody asked +for him at last and Mrs. Ware went to the foot of the stairs to call +him. + +"'Oh, Professor!' she called up the stairs, and the company heard him +answer back just as plain: + +"'Maria, I can't remember whether you sent me up here to change my +clothes or to go to bed.'" + +"I can believe it!" chortled Neale O'Neil. "He has made some awful +breaks in school. But I don't believe _he_ ever owned that bracelet, +Aggie." + + * * * * * + +The first person who displayed interest in the advertisement in the +_Post_ about the bracelet, save the two young people who put it in the +paper, proved to add much to the mystery of the affair and nothing at +all to the peace of mind of Agnes, at least. + +Agnes was busy at some mending--actually hose-darning, for Ruth +insisted that the flyaway sister should mend her own stockings, which +Aunt Sarah's keen eyes inspected--when she chanced to raise her head to +glance out of the front window of the sewing room. A strange looking +turnout had halted before the front gate. + +The vehicle itself was a decrepit express wagon on the side of which +in straggling blue letters was painted the one word "JUNK," but the +horse drawing the wagon was a surprisingly well-kept and good looking +animal. + +The back of the wagon was piled high with bundles of newspapers, and +bags, evidently stuffed with rags, were likewise in the wagon body. +The man climbing down from the seat just as Agnes looked did not seem +at all like the usual junk dealer who passed through Milton's streets +heralded by a "chime" of tin-can bells. + +He was a small, swarthy man, and even at the distance of the front +gate from Agnes' window the girl could see that he wore gold hoops in +his ears. He was quick but furtive in his motions. He glanced in a +birdlike way down the street and across the Parade Ground, which was +diagonally opposite the old Corner House, before he entered the front +gate. + +"He'd better go around to the side door," thought Agnes aloud. "He +must be a very fashionable junkman to come to the front of the house. +And at that I don't believe Mrs. McCall has any rags or papers to sell +just now." + +The swarthy man came straight on to the porch and up the steps. Agnes +heard the bell, and knowing Linda was busy and being likewise rather +curious, she dropped her stocking darning and ran into the front hall. + +The moment she unlatched the big door the swarthy stranger inserted +himself into the house. + +"Why! who are you?" she demanded, fairly thrust aside by the man's +eagerness. + +She saw then that he had a folded paper in one hand. He thrust it +before her eyes, pointing to a place upon it with a very grimy finger. + +"You have found it!" he chattered with great excitement. "That ancient +bracelet which has for so many generations been an heirloom--yes?--of +the Costello. Queen Alma herself wore it at a time long ago. You have +found it?" + +Agnes was made almost speechless by his vehemence as well as by the +announcement itself. + +"I--I--What _do_ you mean?" she finally gasped. + +"You know!" he ejaculated, rapping on the newspaper with his finger +like a woodpecker on a dead limb. "You put in the paper--_here_. It is +lost. You find. _You_ are Kenway, and you say the so-antique bracelet +shall be give to who proves property." + +"We will return it to the owner. Only to the owner," interrupted +Agnes, backing away from him again, for his vehemence half frightened +her. + +"Shall I bring Queen Alma here to say it was her property?" he cried. + +[Illustration: "You have found it!" he chattered with great excitement.] + +"That would be better. If Queen Alma--whoever she is--owns the bracelet +we will give it to her when she proves property." + +The little man uttered a staccato speech in a foreign tongue. Agnes +did not understand. He spread wide his arms in a gesture of seemingly +utter despair. + +"And Queen Alma!" he sputtered. "She is dead these two--no! t'ree +hundred year!" + +"Mercy me!" gasped Agnes, backing away from him and sitting suddenly +down in one of the straight-backed hall chairs. "Mercy me!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII--GETTING IN DEEPER + + +"You see, Mees Kenway," sputtered the swarthy man eagerly, "I catch +the paper, here." He rapped the _Post_ again with his finger. "I read +the Engleesh--yes. I see the notice you, the honest Kenway, have put in +the paper--" + +"Let me tell you, sir," said Agnes, starting up, "_all_ the Kenways +are honest. I am not the only honest person in our family I should +hope!" + +Agnes was much annoyed. The excitable little foreigner spread abroad +his hands again and bowed low before her. + +"Please! Excuse!" he said. "I admire all your family, oh, so very +much! But it is to you who put in the paper the words here, about the +very ancient silver bracelet." Again that woodpecker rapping on the +Lost and Found column in the _Post_. "No?" + +"Yes. I put the advertisement in the paper," acknowledged Agnes, but +wishing very much that she had not, or that Neale O'Neil was present +at this exciting moment to help her handle the situation. + +"So! I have come for it," cried the swarthy man, as though the matter +were quite settled. + +But Agnes' mind began to function pretty well again. She determined +not to be "rushed." This strange foreigner might be perfectly honest. +But there was not a thing to prove that the bracelet given to Tess and +Dot by the Gypsy women belonged to him. + +"How do you know," she asked, "that the bracelet we have in our +possession is the one you have lost?" + +"I? Oh, no, lady! I did not lose the ancient heirloom. Oh, no." + +"But you say--" + +"I am only its rightful owner," he explained. "Had Queen Alma's +bracelet been in my possession it never would have been lost and so +found by the so--gracious Kenway. Indeed, no!" + +"Then, what have you come here for?" cried Agnes, in some desperation. +"I cannot give the bracelet to anybody but the one who lost it--" + +"You say here the owner!" cried the man, beginning again the +woodpecker tapping on the paper. + +"But how do I know you own it?" she gasped. + +"Show it me. In one moment's time can I tell--at the one glance," was +the answer of assurance. "Oh, yes, yes, yes!" + +These "yeses" were accompanied by the emphatic tapping on the paper. +Agnes wondered that the _Post_ at that spot was not quite worn +through. + +Perhaps it was fortunate that at this moment Neale O'Neil came in. +That he came direct from the garage and apparently from a struggle +with oily machinery, both his hands and face betrayed. + +"Hey!" he exploded. "If we are going to take Mr. Pinkney out on a +cross-country chase after that missing pirate this afternoon, we've +got to get a hustle on. You going to be ready, Aggie? Mr. Pinkney gets +home at a quarter to one." + +"Oh, Neale!" cried Agnes, turning eagerly to greet the boy. "Talk to +this man--do! I don't know what to say to him." + +The boy's countenance broadened in a smile. + + "'Say "Hullo!" and "How-de-do!" + "How's the world a-using you?"'" + +quoted Neale, and chuckled outright. "What's his name? What does he +want?" + +"Costello--that me," interposed the strange junkman. He gazed curiously +at Neale with his snapping black eyes. "_You_ are not Kenway--here in +the pape'?" + +Again the finger tapped upon the Lost and Found column in the _Post_. +Neale shook his head. He glanced out of the open door and spied the +wagon and its informative sign. + +"You are a junkman, are you, Mr. Costello?" + +"Yes, yes, yes! I buy the pape', buy the rag and bot'--buy anytheeng I +get cheap. But not to buy do I come this time to Mees Kenway. No, no! +I come because of this in the paper." + +His tapping finger called attention again to the advertisement of the +bracelet. Neale expelled a surprised whistle. + +"Oh, Aggie!" he said, "is he after the Gypsy bracelet?" + +The swarthy man's face was all eagerness again. + +"Yes, yes, yes!" he sputtered. "I am Gypsy. Spanish Gypsy. Of the +tribe of Costello. I am--what you say?--direct descendent of Queen Alma +who live three hunder'--maybe more--year ago, and she own that bracelet +the honest Kenway find!" + +"She--she's dead, then? This Queen Alma?" stammered Neale. + +"_Si, si!_ Yes, yes! But the so-antique bracelet descend by right to +our family. That Beeg Jeem--" + +He burst again into the language he had used before which was quite +unintelligible to either of his listeners; but Neale thought by the +man's expression of countenance that his opinion of "Beeg Jeem" was +scarcely to be told in polite English. + +"Wait!" Neale broke in. "Let's get this straight. We--we find a +bracelet which we advertise. You say the bracelet is yours. Where and +how did you lose it?" + +"I already tell the honest Kenway, I do _not_ lose it." + +"It was stolen from you, then?" + +"Yes, yes, yes! It was stole. A long ago it was stole. And now Beeg +Jeem say he lose it. You find--yes?" + +"This seems to be complicated," Neale declared, shaking his head and +gazing wonderingly at Agnes. "If you did not lose it yourself, Mr. +Costello--" + +"But it is mine!" cried the man. + +"We don't know that," said Neale, somewhat bruskly. "You must prove +it." + +"Prove it?" + +"Yes. In the first place, describe the bracelet. Tell us just how it +is engraved, or ornamented, or whatever it is. How wide and thick is +it? What kind of a bracelet is it, aside from its being made of +silver?" + +"Ah! Queen Alma's bracelet is so well known to the Costello--how shall +I say? Yes, yes, yes!" cried the man, with rather graceful gestures. +"And when Beeg Jeem tell me she is lost--" + +"All right. Describe it," put in Neale. + +Agnes suddenly tugged at Neale's sleeve. Her pretty face was aflame +with excitement. + +"Oh, Neale!" she interposed in a whisper. "Even if he can describe it +exactly we do not know that he is the real owner." + +"Shucks! That's right," agreed the boy. + +He turned to Costello again demanding: + +"How can you prove that this bracelet--if it is the one you think it +is--belongs to you?" + +"She belong to the Costello family. It is an heirloom. I tell it you." + +"That's all right. But you've got to prove it. Even if you describe +the thing that only proves that you have seen it, or heard it +described yourself. It might be so, you know, Mr. Costello. You must +give us some evidence of ownership." + +"Queen Alma's bracelet--" began Costello. + +The junkman made a despairing gesture with wide-spread arms. + +"Me? How can I tell you, sir, and the honest Kenway? It has always +belong to the Costello. Yes, yes, yes! That so-ancient bracelet, Beeg +Jeem have no right to it." + +"But he was the one who lost it!" exclaimed Neale, being quite +confident now of the identity of "Beeg Jeem." + +"Yes, yes, yes! So he say. I no believe. Then I see the reading here +in the pape', of the honest Kenway"--tap, tap, tapping once more of the +forefinger--"and I see it must be so. I--" + +"Hold on!" exclaimed Neale. "You did not lose the bracelet. This other +fellow did. You bring him here and let him prove ownership." + +"No, no!" raved Costello, shaking both clenched hands above his head. +"He shall not have it. It is mine. I am _the_ Costello. Queen Alma, +she give it to the great, great, great gran'mudder of _my_ great, +great, great--" + +"Shucks!" ejaculated Neale. "Now you are going too deep into the +family records for me. I can't follow you. It looks to me like a case +for the courts to settle." + +"Oh, Neale!" gasped Agnes. + +"Why, Aggie, we'd get into hot water if we let this fellow, or any of +those other Gypsies, have the bracelet offhand. If this chap wants it, +he will have to see Mr. Howbridge." + +"Oh, yes!" murmured the girl with sudden relief in her voice. "We can +tell Mr. Howbridge." + +"Guess we'll have to," agreed Neale. "We certainly have bit off more +than we can chew, Aggie. I'll say we have. I guess maybe we'd have +been wiser if we had told your guardian about the old bracelet before +advertising it. And Ruth has nothing on us, at that! She did not tell +him. + +"We're likely," concluded Neale, with a side glance at the swarthy +man, "to have a dozen worse than this one come here to bother us. We +surely did start something when we had that ad. printed, Aggie." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII--OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY + + +Costello, the junkman, could not be further ignored, for at this point +he began another excitable harangue. The Queen Alma bracelet, "Beeg +Jeem," his own sorrows, and the fact that he saw no reason why Agnes +should not immediately give up to him the silver bracelet, were all +mixed up together in a clamor that became almost deafening. + +"Oh, what shall I do? What _shall_ I do?" exclaimed the Corner House +girl. + +But Neale O'Neil was quite level-headed. Like Agnes, at first he had +for a little while been swept off his feet by the swarthy man's +vehemence. He regained his balance now. + +"We're not going to do anything. We won't even show him the bracelet," +said the boy firmly. + +"But it is mine! It is the heirloom of the Costello! I, myself, tell +you so," declared the junkman, beating his breast now instead of the +newspaper. + +"All right. I believe you. Don't yell so about it," said Neale, but +quite calmly. "That does not alter the fact that we cannot give the +bracelet up. That is, Miss Kenway cannot." + +"But she say here--in the paper--" + +"Oh, stop it!" exclaimed the exasperated boy. "It doesn't say in that +paper that she will hand the thing out to anybody who comes and asks +for it. If this other fellow you have been talking about should come +here, do you suppose we would give it up to him, just on his say so?" + +"No, no! It is not his. It never should have been in the possession of +his family, sir. I assure you _I_ am the Costello to whose ancestors +the great Queen Alma of our tribe delivered the bracelet." + +"All right. Let it go at that," answered Neale. "All the more reason +why we must be careful who gets it now. If it is honestly your +bracelet you will get it, Mr. Costello. But you will have to see Miss +Kenway's guardian and let him decide." + +"Her--what you call it--does he have the bracelet?" cried the man. + +"He will have it. You go there to-morrow. I will give you his address. +To-morrow he will talk to you. He is not in his office to-day. He is a +lawyer." + +"Oh, la, la! The law! I no like the law," declared Costello. + +"No, I presume you Gypsies don't," muttered Neale, pulling out an +envelope and the stub of a pencil with which to write the address of +Mr. Howbridge's office. "There it is. Now, that is the best we can do +for you. Only, nobody shall be given the bracelet until you have +talked with Mr. Howbridge." + +"But, I no like! The honest Kenway say here, in the paper--" + +As he began to tap upon the newspaper again Neale, who was a sturdy +youth, crowded him out upon the veranda of the old Corner House. + +"Now, go!" advised Neale, when he heard the click of the door latch +behind him. "You'll make nothing by lingering here and talking. +There's your horse starting off by himself. Better get him." + +This roused the junk dealer's attention. The horse was tired of +standing and was half a block away. Costello uttered an excited yelp +and darted after his junk wagon. + +Agnes let Neale inside the house again. She was much relieved. + +"There! isn't this a mess?" she said. "I am glad you thought of Mr. +Howbridge. But I _do_ wish Ruth had been at home. She would have known +just what to say to that funny little man." + +"Humph! Maybe it would have been a good idea if she had been here," +admitted Neale slowly. "Ruth is awfully bossy, but things do go about +right when she is on the job." + +"We'll have to see Mr. Howbridge--" + +"But that can wait until to-morrow morning," Neale declared. "We can't +do so this afternoon in any case. I happen to know he is out of town. +And we have promised Mr. Pinkney to take him on a hunt for Sammy." + +"All right. It is almost noon. You'd better go and wash your face, +Neale," and she began to giggle at him. + +"Don't I know that? I came in here just to remind you to begin to +prink before dinner or you'd never be ready." + +She was already halfway up the stairs and she leaned over the +balustrade to make a gamin's face at him. + +"Just you tend to your own apple cart, Neale O'Neil!" she told him. "I +will be ready as soon as you are." + +At dinner, which was eaten in the middle of the day at this time of +year at the old Corner House, Agnes appeared ready all but her hat for +the car. + +"Oh, Aggie! can we go too?" cried Dot. "We want to ride in the +automobile, don't we, Tess?" + +"We maybe want to go riding," confessed the other sister slowly. "But +I guess we can't, Dot. You forget that Margie and Holly Pease are +coming over at three o'clock. They haven't seen the fretted silver +bracelet." + +"That reminds me," said Agnes firmly. "You must not take that bracelet +out of the house. Understand? Not at all." + +"Why, Aggie!" murmured Tess, while Dot grew quite red with +indignation. + +"If you wish to play with it indoors, all right," Agnes said. "Whose +turn to have it, is it to-day?" + +"Mine," admitted Tess. + +"Then I hold you responsible. Not out of the house. We have got to get +Mr. Howbridge's advice about it, in any case." + +"Ruth didn't say we couldn't wear the bracelet out-of-doors," declared +Dot, pouting. + +"I am in Ruth's place," responded the older sister promptly. "Now, +remember! You might lose it anyway. And _then_ what would we do if the +owner really comes for it?" + +"But they won't!" cried Dot, confidently. "Those Gypsy ladies gave it +to us for keeps. I am sure." + +"You certainly would not wish to keep the bracelet if the person the +Gypsies stole it from came here to get it?" said Agnes sternly. + +"Oh--oo! No-o," murmured Dot. + +"Of course we would not, Sister," Tess declared briskly. "If we knew +just where their camp is we would take it to them anyway. Of course we +would, Dot!" + +"Oh, of course," agreed Dot, but very faintly. + +"You children are so seldom observant," went on Agnes in her most +grown-up manner. "You should have looked into that basket when you +bought it of the Gypsies. Then you would have seen the bracelet before +the women got away. You are almost _never_ observant." + +"Why, Aggie!" Tess exclaimed, rather hurt by the accusation of her +older sister. "That is what your Mr. Marks said when he came into our +grade at school just before the end of term last June." + +Mr. Curtis G. Marks was the principal of the High School which Agnes +attended. + +"What was Mr. Marks doing over in your room, Tess?" Agnes asked +curiously. + +"Visiting. Our teacher asked him to 'take the class.' You know, +visiting teachers always _are_ so nosey," added Tess with more +frankness than good taste. + +"Better not let Ruth hear you use that expression, child," laughed +Agnes. "But what about being observant--or _un_observant?" + +"He told us," Tess went on to say, "to watch closely, and then asked +for somebody to give him a number. So somebody said thirty-two." + +"Yes?" + +"And Mr. Marks went to the board and wrote twenty-three on it. Of +course, none of us said anything. Then Mr. Marks asked for another +number and somebody gave him ninety-four. Then he wrote forty-nine on +the board, and nobody said a word." + +"Why didn't you?" asked Agnes in wonder. "Did you think he was +teaching you some new game?" + +"I--I guess we were too polite. You see, he was a visitor. And he said +right out loud to our teacher: 'You see, they do not observe. Is it +dense stupidity, or just inattention?' That's _just_ what he said," +added Tess, her eyes flashing. + +"Oh!" murmured Dot. "Didn't he know how to write the number right?" + +"So," continued Tess, "I guess we all felt sort of hurt. And Belle +Littleweed got so fidgety that she raised her hand. Mr. Marks says: +'Very well, you give me a number.' + +"Belle lisps a little, you know, Aggie, and she said right out: +'Theventy-theven; thee if you can turn that around!' He didn't think +we noticed anything, and were stupid; but I guess he knows better +now," added Tess with satisfaction. + +"That is all right," said Agnes with a sigh. "I heartily wish you and +Dot had been observant when those women gave you the basket and you +had found the bracelet in it before they got away. It is going to make +us trouble I am afraid." + +Agnes told the little ones nothing about the strange junkman and his +claim. Nor did she mention the affair to any of the remainder of the +Corner House family. She only added: + +"So don't you take the bracelet out of the house or let anybody at all +have it--if Neale or I are not here." + +"Why, it would not be right to give the bracelet to anybody but the +Gypsy ladies, would it?" said Tess. + +"Of course not," agreed Dot. "And _they_ haven't come after it." + +Agnes did not notice these final comments of the two smaller girls. +She had given them instructions, and those instructions were +sufficient, she thought, to avert any trouble regarding the mysterious +bracelet--whether it was "Queen Alma's" or not. + +The junkman, Costello, certainly had filled Agnes' mind with most +romantic imaginations! If the old silver bracelet was a Gypsy heirloom +and had been handed down through the Costello tribe--as the junkman +claimed--for three hundred years and more, of course it would not be +considered stolen property. + +The mystery remained why the Gypsy women had left the bracelet in the +basket they had almost forced upon the Kenway children. The +explanation of this was quite beyond Agnes, unless it had been done +because the Gypsy women feared that this very Costello was about to +claim the heirloom, and they considered it safer with Tess and Dot +than in their own possession. True, this seemed a far-fetched +explanation of the affair; yet what so probable? + +The Gypsies might be quite familiar with Milton, and probably knew a +good deal about the old Corner House and the family now occupying it. +The little girls would of course be honest. The Gypsies were shrewd +people. They were quite sure, no doubt, that the Kenways would not +give the bracelet to any person but the women who sold the basket, +unless the right to the property could be proved. + +"And even if that Costello man does own the bracelet, how is he going +to prove it?" Agnes asked Neale, as they ran the car out of the garage +after dinner. "I guess we are going to hand dear old Mr. Howbridge a +big handful of trouble." + +"Crickey! isn't that a fact?" grumbled Neale. "The more I think of it, +the sorrier I am we put that advertisement in the paper, Aggie." + +There was nothing more to be said about that at the time, for Mr. +Pinkney was already waiting for them on his front steps. His wife was +at the door and she looked so weary-eyed and pale of face that Agnes +at least felt much sympathy for her. + +"Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Pinkney!" cried the girl from her seat beside +Neale. "I am sure Sammy will turn up all right. Neale says +so--everybody says so! He is such a plucky boy, anyway. Nothing would +happen to him." + +"But this seems worse than any other time," said the poor woman. "He +must have never meant to come back, or he would not have taken that +picture with him." + +"Nonsense!" exclaimed her husband cheerfully. "Sammy sort of fancied +himself in that picture, that is all. He is not without his share of +vanity." + +"That is what _you_ say," complained Sammy's mother. "But I just feel +that something dreadful has happened to him this time." + +"Never mind," called Neale, starting the engine, "we'll go over the +hills and far away, but we'll find some trace of him, Mrs. Pinkney. +Sammy can't have hidden himself so completely that we cannot discover +where he has been and where he is going." + +That is exactly what they did. They flew about the environs of Milton +in a rapid search for the truant. Wherever they stopped and made +inquiries for the first hour or so, however, they gained no word of +Sammy. + +It was three o'clock, and they were down toward the canal on the road +leading to Hampton Mills, when they gained the first possible clue of +the missing one. And that clue was more than twenty-four hours old. + +A storekeeper remembered a boy who answered to Sammy's description +buying something to eat the day before, and sitting down on the store +step to eat it. That boy carried a heavy extension-bag and went on +after he had eaten along the Hampton Mills road. + +"We've struck his trail!" declared Neale with satisfaction. "Don't you +think so, Mr. Pinkney?" + +"How did he pay you for the things he bought?" asked the father of the +runaway, addressing the storekeeper again. "What kind of money did he +have?" + +"He had ten cent pieces, I remember. And he had them tied in a +handkerchief. Nicked his bank before he started, did he?" and the man +laughed. + +"That is exactly what he did," admitted Mr. Pinkney, returning +hurriedly to the car. "Drive on, Neale. I guess we are on the right +trail." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV--ALMOST HAD HIM + + +Neale drove almost recklessly for the first few miles after passing +the roadside store; but the eyes of all three people in the car were +very wide open and their minds observant. Anything or anybody that +might give trace of the truant Sammy were scrutinized. + +"He was at that store before noon," Agnes shouted into Neale's ear. +"How long before he would be hungry again?" + +"No knowing. Pretty soon, of course," admitted her chum. "But I heard +that storekeeper tell Mr. Pinkney that the boy bought more than he +could eat at once and he carried the rest away in a paper bag." + +"That is so," admitted Mr. Pinkney, leaning over the forward seat. +"But he has an appetite like a boa constrictor." + +"A _boy_-constrictor," chuckled Neale. "I'll say he has!" + +"He would not likely stop anywhere along here to buy more food, then," +Agnes said. + +"He could have gone off the road, however, for a dozen different +things," said the missing boy's father. "That child has got more +crotchets in his head than you can shake a stick at. There is no +knowing--" + +"Hold on!" ejaculated Neale suddenly. "There are some kids down there +by that pond. Suppose I run down and interview them?" + +"I don't see anybody among them who looks like Sammy," observed Agnes, +standing up in the car to look. + +"Never mind. You go ahead, Neale. They will talk to you more freely, +perhaps, than they will to me. Boys are that way." + +"I'll try," said Neale, and jumped out of the car and ran down toward +the roof of the old ice-house that the afternoon before had so +attracted Sammy Pinkney--incidentally wrecking his best trousers. + +As it chanced, Neale had seen and now interviewed the very party of +boys with whom Sammy had previously made friends. But Neale said +nothing at first to warn these boys that he was searching for one whom +they all considered "a good kid." + +"Say, fellows," Neale began, "was this an ice-house before it got +burned down?" + +"Yep," replied the bigger boy of the group. + +"And only the roof left? Crickey! What have you chaps been doing? +Sliding down it?" For he had observed as he came down from the car two +of the smaller boys doing just that. + +"It's great fun," said the bigger boy, grinning, perhaps at the memory +of what had happened to Sammy Pinkney's trousers the previous +afternoon. "Want to try?" + +Neale grinned more broadly, and gave the shingled roof another glance. +"I bet _you_ don't slide down it like those little fellows I just saw +doing it. How do their pants stand it?" + +The boys giggled at that. + +"Say!" the bigger one said, "there was a kid came along yesterday that +didn't get on to that--_till afterward_." + +"Oh, ho!" chuckled Neale. "He wore 'em right through, did he?" + +"Yes, he did. And then he was sore. Said his mother would give him +fits." + +"Where does he live? Around here?" asked Neale carelessly. + +"I never saw him before," admitted the bigger boy. "He was a good +fellow just the same. You looking for him?" he asked with sudden +suspicion. + +"I don't know. If he's the boy I mean he needn't be afraid to go home +because of his torn pants. You tell him so if you see him again." + +"Sure. I didn't know he was running away. He didn't say anything." + +"Didn't he have a bag with him--sort of a suitcase?" + +"Didn't see it," replied the boy. "We all went home to supper and he +went his way." + +"Which way?" + +"Could not tell you that," the other said reflectively, and was +evidently honest about it. "He was coming from that way," and he +pointed back toward Milton, "when he joined us here at the slide." + +"Then he probably kept on toward--What is in that direction?" and Neale +pointed at the nearest road, the very one into which Sammy had turned. + +"Oh, that goes up through the woods," said the boy. "Hampton Mills is +over around the pond--you follow yonder road." + +"Yes, I know. But you think this fellow you speak of might have gone +into that by road?" + +"He was headed that way when we first saw him," said the boy. "Wasn't +he, Jimmy?" + +"Sure," agreed the smaller boy addressed. "And, Tony, I bet he _did_ +go that way. When I looked back afterward I remember I saw a boy +lugging something heavy going up that road." + +"I didn't see that that fellow had a bag," argued the bigger boy. "But +he might have hid it when he came down here." + +"Likely he did," admitted Neale. "Anyway, we will go up that road +through the woods and see." + +"_Is_ his mother going to give him fits for those torn pants?" asked +another of the group. + +"She'll be so glad to see him home again," confessed Neale, "that he +could tear every pair of pants he's got and she wouldn't say a word!" + +He made his way up the bank to the car and reported. + +"I don't know where that woods-road leads to. I neglected to bring a +map. But it looks as though we could get through it with the car. +We'll try, sha'n't we?" + +"Oh, do, Neale," urged Agnes. + +"I guess it is as good a lead as any," observed Mr. Pinkney. "Somehow, +I begin to feel as though the boy had got a good way off this time. +Even this clue is almost twenty-four hours old." + +"He must have stayed somewhere last night," cried Agnes suddenly. "If +there is a house up there in the woods--or beyond--we can ask." + +"Right you are, Aggie," agreed Neale, starting the car again. + +"Sammy Pinkney is an elusive youngster, sure enough," said the +truant's father. "Something has got to stop him from running away. It +costs too much time and money to overtake him and bring him back." + +"And we haven't done that yet," murmured Agnes. + +The car struck heavy going in the road through the woods before they +had gone very far up the rise. In places the road was soft and had +been cut up by the wheels of heavy trucks or wagons. And they did not +pass a single house--not even a cleared spot in the wood--on either +hand. + +"If he started up this way so near supper time last evening, as those +boys say," Mr. Pinkney ruminated, "where was he at supper time?" + +"Here, or hereabout, I should say!" exclaimed Neale O'Neil. "Why, it +must have been pretty dark when he got this far." + +"If he really came this far," added Agnes. + +"Well, let us run along and see if there is a house anywhere," Mr. +Pinkney said. "Of course, Sammy might have slept out--" + +"It wouldn't be the first time, I bet!" chuckled Neale. + +"And of course there would be nothing to hurt him in these woods?" +suggested Agnes. + +"Nothing bigger than a rabbit, I guess," agreed their neighbor. + +"Well--" + +Neale increased the speed of the car again, turned a blind corner, and +struck a soft place in the road before he could stop. Having no +skidding chains on the rear wheels of course, the car was out of +control in an instant. It slued around. Agnes screamed. Mr. Pinkney +shouted his alarm. + +The car slid over the bank of the ditch beside the road and both right +wheels sank in mud and water to the hubs. + +"Some pretty mess--I'll tell the world!" groaned Neale O'Neil, shutting +off the engine, while Agnes clung to his arm grimly to keep from +sliding out into the ditch, too. + +"Now, you _have_ done it!" shrilled the girl. + +"Thanks. Many thanks. I expected you to say that, Aggie," he replied. + +"M-mm! Well, I don't suppose you meant to--" + +"No use worrying about how it was done or who did it," interposed Mr. +Pinkney, briskly getting out of the tonneau on the left side. "The +question is, how are we going to right the car and get under way +again?" + +"A truer word was never spoken," agreed Neale O'Neil. "Come on, Agnes. +We'll creep out on this side, too. That's it. Looks to me, Mr. +Pinkney, as though we should need a couple of good, strong levers to +pry up the wheels. You and I can do that while Agnes gets in under the +wheel and manipulates the mechanism, as it were." + +"You are the boss, here, Neale," said the older man, immediately +entering the wood on the right side of the road. "I see a stick here +that looks promising." + +He passed under the broadly spreading branches of a huge chestnut +tree. There were several of these monsters along the edge of the wood. +Mr. Pinkney suddenly shouted something, and dropped upon his knees +between two outcropping roots of the tree. + +"What is it, Mr. Pinkney?" cried Agnes, running across the road. + +Their neighbor appeared, erect again. In his hand he bore the +well-remembered extension-bag which Sammy Pinkney had so often borne +away from home upon his truant escapades. + +"What do you know about this?" demanded Sammy's father. "Here's his +bag--filled with his possessions, by the feel of it. But where is the +boy?" + +"He--he's got away!" gasped Agnes. + +"And we almost had him," was Neale's addition to the amazed remarks of +the trio of searchers. + + + + +CHAPTER XV--UNCERTAINTIES + + +The secret had now been revealed! But of course it did not do Sammy +Pinkney the least bit of good. His extension-bag had not been stolen +at all. + +Merely, when that sleepy boy had stumbled away the night before to the +spring for a drink of water, he had not returned to the right tree for +the remainder of the night. In his excitement in the morning, after +discovering his loss, Sammy ran about a good deal (as Uncle Rufus +would have said) "like a chicken wid de haid cut off." He did not +manage to find the right tree at all. + +The extension-bag was now in his father's hands. Mr. Pinkney brought +it to the mired car and opened it. There was no mistaking the contents +of the bag for anything but Sammy's possessions. + +"What do you know about that?" murmured the amazed father of the +embryo pirate. He rummaged through the conglomeration of chattels in +the bag. "No, it is not here." + +"What are you looking for, Mr. Pinkney?" demanded Agnes, feeling +rather serious herself. Something might have happened to the truant. + +"That picture his mother spoke of," the father answered, with a sigh. + +"Hoh!" exclaimed Neale O'Neil, "if the kid thinks as much of it as +Mrs. Pinkney says, he's got it with him. Of course." + +"It looks so," admitted Mr. Pinkney. "But why should he abandon his +clothes--and all?" + +"Oh, maybe he hasn't!" cried Agnes eagerly. "Maybe he is coming back +here." + +"You think this old tree," said Mr. Pinkney in doubt, "is Sammy's +headquarters?" + +"I--don't--know--" + +"That wouldn't be like Sammy," declared Neale, with conviction. "He +always keeps moving--even when he is stowaway on a canalboat," and he +chuckled at the memory of that incident. "For some reason he was +chased away from here. Or," hitting the exact truth without knowing +it, "he tucked the bag under that tree root and forgot where he put +it." + +"Does that sound reasonable?" gasped Agnes. + +"Quite reasonable--for Sammy," grumbled Mr. Pinkney. "He is just so +scatter-brained. But what shall I tell his mother when I take this bag +home to her? She will feel worse than she has before." + +"Maybe we will find him yet," Agnes interposed. + +"That's what we are out for," Neale added with confidence. "Let's not +give up hope. Why, we're finding clues all the time." + +"And now you manage to get us stuck in the mud," put in Agnes, giving +her boy friend rather an unfair dig. + +"Have a heart! How could I help it? Anyway, we'll get out all right. +We sha'n't have to camp here all night, if Sammy did." + +"That is it," interposed Sammy's father. "I wonder if he stayed here +all night or if he abandoned the bag here and kept on. Maybe the woods +were too much for his nerves," and he laughed rather uncertainly. + +"I bet Sammy was not scared," announced Neale, with confidence. "He is +a courageous chap. If he wasn't, he would not start out alone this +way." + +"True enough," said Mr. Pinkney, not without some pride. "But +nevertheless it would help some if we were sure he was here only +twelve hours ago, instead of twenty-four." + +"Let's get the car out of the ditch and see if we can go on," Neale +suggested. "I'll get that pole you saw, Mr. Pinkney. And I see another +lever over there." + +While Mr. Pinkney buckled the straps of the extension-bag again and +stowed the bag under the seat, Neale brought the two sticks of small +timber which he thought would be strong enough to lift the wheels of +the stalled car out of the ditch. But first he used the butt of one of +the sticks to knock down the edge of the bank in front of each wheel. + +"You see," he said to Agnes, "when you get it started you want to turn +the front wheels, if you can, to the left and climb right out on to +the road. Mr. Pinkney and I will do the best we can for you; but it is +the power of the engine that must get us out of the ditch." + +"I--I don't know that I can handle it right, Neale," hesitated Agnes. + +"Sure you can. You've got to!" he told her. "Come on, Mr. Pinkney! +Let's see if we can get these sticks under the wheels on this side." + +"Wait a moment," urged the man, who was writing hastily on a page torn +from his notebook. "I must leave a note for Sammy--if perhaps he should +come back here looking for his bag." + +"Better not say anything about his torn trousers, Mr. Pinkney," +giggled Agnes. "He will shy at that." + +"He can tear all his clothes to pieces if he'll only come home and +stop his mother's worrying. Only, the little rascal ought to be +soundly trounced just the same for all the trouble he is causing us." + +"If only I had stayed with him at that beet bed and made sure he knew +what he was doing," sighed Agnes, who felt somewhat condemned. + +"It would have been something else that sent him off in this way, if +it hadn't been beets," grumbled Mr. Pinkney. "He was about due for a +break-away. I should have paid more attention to him myself. But +business was confining. + +"Oh, well; we always see our mistakes when it is too late. But that +boy needs somebody's oversight besides his mother's. She is always +afraid I will be too harsh with him. But she doesn't manage him, that +is sure." + +"We'd better catch the rabbit before we make the rabbit stew," +chuckled Neale O'Neil. "Sammy is a good kid, I tell you. Only he has +crazy notions." + +"Pooh!" put in Agnes. "You need not talk in so old-fashioned a way. +You used to have somewhat similar 'crazy notions' yourself. You ran +away a couple of times." + +"Well, did I have a real home and a mother and father to run from?" +demanded the boy. "Guess not!" + +"You've got a father now," laughed Agnes. + +"But he isn't like a real father," sighed Neale. "He has run away from +me! I know it is necessary for him to go back to Alaska to attend to +that mine. But I'll be glad when he comes home for good--or I can go to +him." + +"Oh, Neale! You wouldn't?" gasped the girl. + +"Wouldn't what?" he asked, surprised by her vehemence. + +"Go away up to Alaska?" + +"I'd like to," admitted the boy. "Wouldn't you?" + +"Oh--well--if you can take me along," rejoined Agnes with satisfaction, +"all right. But under no other circumstances can you go, Neale +O'Neil." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI--THE DEAD END OF NOWHERE + + +Mr. Pinkney and Neale went to work to hoist the motor-car into the +road again. No easy nor brief struggle was this. A dozen times Agnes +started the car and the wheels slipped off the poles or Neale or Mr. +Pinkney lost his grip. + +Before long they were well bespattered with mud (for there was +considerable water in the ditch) and so was the automobile. Neale and +their neighbor worked to the utmost of their muscular strength, and +Agnes was in tears. + +"Pluck up your courage, Aggie," panted her boy friend. "We'll get it +yet." + +"I just feel that it is my fault," sobbed the girl. "All this slipping +and sliding. If I could only just get it to start right--" + +"Again!" cried Neale cheerfully. + +And this time the forewheels really got on solid ground. Mr. Pinkney +thrust his lever in behind the sloughed hind wheel and blocked it from +sliding back. + +"Great!" yelled Neale. "Once more, Aggie!" + +She obeyed his order, and although the automobile engine rattled a +good deal and the car itself plunged like a bucking broncho, they +finally got all the wheels out of the mud and on the firm road. + +"Crickey!" gasped Neale. "It looks like a battlefield." + +"And we look as though we had been in the battle all right," said Mr. +Pinkney. "Guess Mamma Pinkney will have something to say about _my_ +trousers when we get home, let alone Sammy's." + +"Do you suppose the car will run all right?" asked the anxious Agnes. +"I don't know what Ruth would say if we broke down." + +"She'd say a-plenty," returned Neale. "But wait till I get some of +this mud off me and I'll try her out again. By the way she bucked that +last time I should say there was nothing much the matter with her +machinery." + +This proved to be true. If anything was strained about the mechanism +it did not immediately show up. Neale got the automobile under way +without any difficulty and they drove ahead through the now fast +darkening road. + +The belt of woods was not very wide, but the car ran slowly and when +the searchers came out upon the far side, the old shack which housed +the big, red-faced woman, who had been kind to Sammy, and her brood of +children, some of whom had been not at all kind, the place looked to +be deserted. + +In truth, the family were berry pickers and had been gone all day +(after Sammy's adventure with the cherry-colored calf) up in the hills +after berries. They had not yet returned for the evening meal, and +although Neale stopped the car in front of the shack Mr. Pinkney +decided Sammy would not have remained at the abandoned place. + +And, of course, Sammy had not remained here. After his exciting fight +with Peter and Liz, and fearing to return to the house to complain, he +had gone right on. Where he had gone was another matter. The +automobile party drove to the town of Crimbleton, which was the next +hamlet, and there Mr. Pinkney made exhaustive inquiries regarding his +lost boy, but to no good result. + +"We'll try again to-morrow, Mr. Pinkney, if you say so," urged Neale. + +"Of course we will," agreed Agnes. "We'll go every day until you find +him." + +Their neighbor shook his head with some sadness. "I am afraid it will +do no good. Sammy has given us the slip this time. Perhaps I would +better put the matter in the hands of a detective agency. For myself, +I should be contented to wait until he shows up of his own volition. +But his mother--" + +Agnes and Neale saw, however, that the man was himself very desirous +of getting hold of his boy again. They made a hasty supper at the +Crimbleton Inn and then started homeward at a good rate of speed. + +When they came up the grade toward the old house beside the road, at +the edge of the wood, the big woman and her family had returned, made +their own supper, and gone to bed. The place looked just as deserted +as before. + +"The dead-end of nowhere," Neale called it, and the automobile +gathered speed as it went by. So the searchers missed making inquiry +at the very spot where inquiry might have done the most good. The +trail of Sammy Pinkney was lost. + +Neale O'Neil wanted to satisfy himself about one thing. He said +nothing to Agnes about it, but after he had put up the car and locked +the garage, he walked down Main Street to Byburg's candy store. + +June Wildwood was always there until half past nine, and Saturday +nights until later. She was at her post behind the sweets counter on +this occasion when Neale entered. + +"I am glad to see you, Neale," she said. "I'm awfully curious." + +"About that bracelet?" + +"Yes," she admitted. "What has come of it? Anything?" + +"Enough. Tell me," began Neale, before she could put in any further +question, "while you were with the Gypsies did you hear anything about +Queen Alma?" + +"Queen Zaliska. I was Queen Zaliska. They dressed me up and stained my +face to look the part." + +"Oh, I know all about that," Neale returned. "But this Queen Alma was +some ancient lady. She lived three hundred years ago." + +"Goodness! How you talk, Neale O'Neil. Of course I don't know anything +about such a person." + +"Those Gypsies you were with never talked of her?" + +"I didn't hear them. I never learned much of the language they use +among themselves." + +"Well, we got a tip," said the boy, "that the bracelet belonged to +this Queen Alma, and that there is a row among the Gypsies over the +ownership of it." + +"You don't tell me!" + +"I am telling you. We heard so. Say, is that Big Jim a Spaniard? A +Spanish Gypsy, I mean?" + +"I don't know. Maybe. He looks like a Spaniard, or a Mexican, or an +Italian." + +"Yes. I thought he did. He comes of some Latin race, anyway. What is +his last name?" + +"Why--I--I am not sure that I know." + +"Is it Costello? Did you hear that name while you were with the +Gypsies, June?" + +"Some of them are named Costello. It is a family name among them I +guess. And about that Jim. Do you know that I saw him yesterday +driving down Main Street in an automobile?" + +"You don't mean it? Gypsies are going to become flivver traders +instead of horse swappers, are they?" and Neale laughed. + +"Oh, it was a big, seven-passenger car," said June. "Those Gypsies +have money, if they want to spend it." + +"Did you ever hear of a Gypsy junkman?" chuckled Neale. + +"Of course not. Although I guess junkmen make good money nowadays," +drawled June Wildwood, laughing too. "You are a funny boy, Neale +O'Neil. Do you want to know anything else?" + +"Lots of things. But I guess you cannot tell me much more about the +Gypsies that would be pertinent to the bracelet business. We hear that +the Costello Gypsies are fighting over the possession of the +heirloom--the bracelet, you know. That is why one bunch of them wanted +to get it off their hands for a while--and so gave it into the keeping +of Tess and Dot." + +"Mercy!" + +"Does that seem improbable to you, June?" + +"No-o. Not much. They might. It makes me think that maybe the Gypsies +have been watching the old Corner House and know all about the +Kenways." + +"They might easily do that. You know, they might know us all from that +time away back when we brought you home from Pleasant Cove with us. +This is some of the same tribe you were with--sure enough!" + +"I know it," sighed June Wildwood. "I've been scared a little about +them too. But for my own sake. I haven't dared tell Rosa; but pap +comes down here to the store for me every evening and beaus me home. I +feel safer." + +"The bracelet business has nothing to do with you, of course?" + +"Of course not. But those Gypsies might have some evil intent about +Ruth and her sisters." + +"Guess they are just trying to use them for a convenience. While that +bracelet is in the Corner House no other claimant but those Gypsy +women are likely to get hold of it. Believe me, it is a puzzle," he +concluded. "I guess we will have to put it up to Mr. Howbridge, sure +enough." + +"Oh! The Kenways's lawyer?" cried June. + +"Their guardian. Sure enough. That is what we will have to do." + +But when Neale and Agnes Kenway, after an early breakfast, hurried +downtown to Mr. Howbridge's office the next morning to tell the lawyer +all about the Gypsies and Queen Alma's bracelet, they made a +surprising discovery. + +Mr. Howbridge had left town the evening before on important business. +He might not return for a week. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII--RUTH BEGINS TO WORRY + + +Oakhurst, in the mountains, was a very lovely spot. Besides the hotel +where Luke Shepard had worked and where he had met with his accident, +there were bungalows and several old-fashioned farmhouses where +boarders were received. There was a lake, fine golf links, bridlepaths +through the woods, and mountains to climb. It was a popular if quiet +resort. + +Ruth and Cecile Shepard had rooms in one of the farmhouses, for the +hotel was expensive. Besides, the farmer owned a beautifully shaded +lawn overlooking the lake and the girls could sit there under the +trees while the invalid, as they insisted upon calling Luke, reclined +on a swinging cot. + +"Believe me!" Cecile often insisted, "I will never send another +telegram as long as I live. I cannot forgive myself for making such a +mess of it. But then, if I hadn't done so, you would not be here now, +Ruthie." + +"Isn't that a fact?" agreed her brother. "You are all right, Sis! I am +for you, strong." + +Ruth laughed. Yet there were worried lines between her eyes. + +"It is all right," she murmured. "I might have come in any case--for +Mr. Howbridge advised it by this letter that they remailed to me. But +I should not have left in such haste, and I should have left somebody +besides Mrs. McCall to look after the girls." + +"Pooh!" ejaculated Luke. "What is the matter with Agnes?" + +"That is just it," laughed Ruth again, but shaking her head too. "It +is Agnes, and what she may do, that troubles me more than anything +else." + +"Goodness me! She is a big girl," declared Cecile. "And she has lots +of sense." + +"She usually succeeds in hiding her good sense, then," rejoined Ruth. +"Of course she can take care of herself. But will she give sufficient +attention to the little ones. That is the doubt that troubles me." + +"Well, you just can't go away now!" wailed Cecile. "You have got to +stay till the doctor says we can move Luke. I can't take him back +alone." + +"Now, don't make me out so badly off. I am lying here like a poor log +because that sawbones and you girls make me. But I know I could get up +and play baseball." + +[Illustration: The girls could sit under the tree while Luke reclined +on a swinging cot.] + +"Don't you dare!" cried his sister. + +"You would not be so unwise," said Ruth promptly. + +"All right. Then you stop worrying, Ruth," the young fellow said. +"Otherwise I shall 'take up my bed and walk'--you see! This lying +around like an ossified man is a nuisance, and it's absurd, anyway." + +Ruth had immediately written to Mr. Howbridge asking him to look +closely after family affairs at the Corner House. Had she known the +lawyer was not at home when her letter arrived in Milton she certainly +would have started back by the very next train. + +She wrote Mrs. McCall, too, for exact news. And naturally she poured +into her letter to Agnes all the questions and advice of which she +could think. + +Agnes was too busy when that letter arrived to answer it at all. +Things were happening at the old Corner House at that time of which +Ruth had never dreamed. + +Ruth was really glad to be with Cecile and Luke in the mountains. And +she tried to throw off her anxiety. + +Luke insisted that his sister and Ruth should go over to the hotel to +dance in the evening when he had to go to bed, as the doctor ordered. +He had become acquainted with most of the hotel guests before his +injury, and the young people liked Luke Shepard. + +They welcomed his sister and Ruth as one of themselves, and the two +girls had the finest kind of a time. At least, Cecile did, and she +said that Ruth might have had, had she not been thinking of the +home-folk so much. + +Several days passed, and although Ruth heard nothing from home save a +brief and hurried note from Agnes, telling of their unsuccessful +search for Sammy--and nothing much else--the older Kenway girl began to +feel that her anxiety had been unnecessary. + +Then came Mrs. McCall's labored letter. The old Scotchwoman was never +an easy writer. And her thoughts did not run to the way of clothing +facts in readable English. She was plain and blunt. At least a part of +her letter immediately made Ruth feel that she was needed at home, and +that even her interest in Luke Shepard should not detain her longer at +Oakhurst. + + * * * * * + +"We have got to have another watchdog. Old Tom Jonah is too old; it is +my opinion. I mind he is getting deaf, or something, or he wouldn't +have let that man come every night and stare in at the window. Faith, +he is a nuisance--the man, I mean, Ruth, not the old dog. + +"I have spoke to the police officer on the beat; but Mr. Howbridge +being out of town I don't know what else to do about that man. And +such a foxy looking man as he is! + +"Neale O'Neil, who is a good lad, I'm saying, and no worse than other +boys of his age for sure, offers to watch by night. But I have not +allowed it. He and Aggie talk of Gypsies, and they show me that silver +bracelet--a bit barbarous thing that you remember the children had to +play with--and say the dark man who comes to the window nights is a +Gypsy. I think he is a plain tramp, that is all, my lass. + +"Don't let these few lines worry you. Linda goes to bed with the stove +poker every night, and Uncle Rufus says he has oiled up your great +uncle's old shotgun. But I know that gun has no hammer to it, so I am +not afraid of the weapon at all. I just want to make that black-faced +man go away from the house and mind his own business. It is a nuisance +he is." + + * * * * * + +"I must go home--oh, I must!" Ruth said to Cecile as soon as she had +read this effusion from the old housekeeper. "Just think! A man spying +on them--and a Gypsy!" + +"Pooh! it can't be anything of importance," scoffed Cecile. + +"It must be. Think! I told you about the Gypsy bracelet. There must be +more of importance connected with that than we thought." + +She had already told Luke and Cecile about the mystery of the silver +ornament. + +"Why, I thought you had told Mr. Howbridge about it," Cecile said. + +"I did not. I really forgot to when the news of Luke's illness came," +and Ruth blushed. + +"That quite drove everything else out of your head, did it?" laughed +the other girl. "But now why let it bother you? Of course Mr. +Howbridge will attend to things--" + +"But he seems to be away," murmured Ruth. "Evidently Mrs. McCall and +Agnes have not been able to reach him. Oh, Cecile! I must really go +home." + +"Then you will have to come back," declared Cecile Shepard. "I could +not possibly travel with Luke alone." + +The physician had confided more to the girls than to Luke himself +about the young man's physical condition. The medical man feared some +spinal trouble if Luke did not remain quiet and lie flat on his back +for some time to come. + +But the day following Ruth's receipt of Mrs. McCall's anxiety-breeding +letter, Dr. Moline agreed to the young man's removal. + +"But only in a compartment. You must take the afternoon train on which +you can engage a compartment. He must lie at ease all the way. I will +take him to the station in my car. And have a car to meet him when you +get to the Milton station." + +The first of these instructions Ruth was able to follow faithfully. +The cost of such a trip was not to be considered. She would not even +allow Luke and Cecile to speak about it. + +Ruth had her own private bank account, arranged for and supervised, it +was true, by Mr. Howbridge, and she prided herself upon doing business +in a businesslike way. + +Just before they boarded the train at Oakhurst station she telegraphed +home that they were coming and for Neale to meet them with the car, +late though their arrival would be. If on time, the train would stop +at Milton just after midnight. + +When that telegram arrived at the old Corner House it failed to make +much of a disturbance in the pool of the household existence. And for +a very good reason. So much had happened there during the previous few +hours that the advent of the King and Queen of England (and this Mrs. +McCall herself said) would have created a very small "hooroo." + +As for Neale O'Neil's getting out the car and going down to the +station to meet Ruth and her friends when they arrived, that seemed to +be quite impossible. The coming of the telegram was at an hour when +already the Kenway automobile was far away from Milton, and Neale and +Agnes in it were having high adventure. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII--THE JUNKMAN AGAIN + + +When Ruth started home with Luke and Cecile Shepard several days had +elapsed since Neale O'Neil and Agnes had discovered that Mr. Howbridge +was out of town. + +The chief clerk at the lawyer's office had little time to give to the +youthful visitors, for just then he had his hands full with a caller +whom Neale and Agnes had previously found was a person not easily to +be pacified. + +"There is a crazy man in here," grumbled the clerk. "I don't know what +he means. He says he 'comes from Kenway,' and there is something about +Queen Alma and her bracelet. What do you know about this, Miss +Kenway?" + +"Oh, my prophetic soul!" gasped Neale O'Neil. "Costello, the junkman!" + +"Dear, me! We thought we could see Mr. Howbridge before that man +came." + +"Tell me what it means," urged the clerk. "Then I will know what to +say to the lunatic." + +"I guess he's a nut all right," admitted Neale. He told the lawyer's +clerk swiftly all they knew about the junkman, and all they knew about +the silver bracelet. + +"All right. It is something for Mr. Howbridge to attend to himself," +declared the clerk. "You hang on to that bracelet and don't let +anybody have it. I'll try to shoo off this fellow. Anyway, it may not +belong to his family at all. I'll hold him here till you two get +away." + +Neale and Agnes were glad to escape contact with the junkman again. He +was too vehement. + +"He'll walk right in and search the house for the thing," grumbled +Neale. "We can't have him frightening the children." + +"And I don't want to be frightened myself," added Agnes. + +They hurried home, and all that day, every time the bell rang or she +heard a voice at the side door, the girl felt a sudden qualm. "Wish we +had never advertised that bracelet at all," she confessed in secret. +"Dear, me! I wonder what Ruth will say?" + +Nevertheless she failed to take her older sister into her confidence +regarding Queen Alma's bracelet when she wrote to her. She felt quite +convinced that Ruth would not approve of what she and Neale had done, +so why talk about it? + +This was the attitude Agnes maintained. Perhaps the whole affair would +be straightened out before Ruth came back. And otherwise, she +considered, everything was going well at the Corner House in Milton. + +It was Miss Ann Titus who evinced interest next in the "lost and +found" advertisement. Miss Ann Titus was the woman whom Dot called +"such a fluid speaker" and who said so many "and-so's" that +"ain't-so's." In other words, Miss Titus, the dressmaker, was a very +gossipy person, although she was not intentionally unkind. + +She came in this afternoon, "stopping by" as she termed it, from +spending a short sewing day with Mrs. Pease, a Willow Street neighbor +of the Corner House girls. + +"And I must say that Mrs. Pease, for a woman of her age, has young +idees about dress," Miss Titus confided to Mrs. McCall and Agnes, who +were in the sewing room. Aunt Sarah "couldn't a-bear" Miss Ann Titus, +so they did not invite the seamstress to go upstairs. + +"Yes, her idees is some young," repeated Miss Titus. "But then, +nowadays if you foller the styles in the fashion papers nobody can +tell you and your grandmother apart, back to! Skirts are so skimpy--and +_short_!" + +Miss Titus fanned herself rapidly, and allowed her emphasis to suggest +her own opinion of modern taste in dress. + +"Of course, Mrs. Pease is slim and ain't lost all her good looks; but +it does seem to me if I was a married woman," she simpered here a +little, for Miss Titus had by no means given up all hope of entering +the wedded state, "I should consider my husband's feelings. I would +not go on the street looking below my knees as though I was twelve +year old instead of thirty-two." + +"Maybe Mr. Pease likes her to look young," suggested Agnes. + +"Hech! Hech!" clucked Mrs. McCall placidly. "Thirty-twa is not so very +auld. Not as we live these days, at any rate." + +"But think of the example she sets her children," sniffed Miss Titus, +bridling. + +"Tut, tut! How much d'you expect Margie and Holly Pease is influenced +by their mother's style o' dress?" exclaimed the housekeeper. "The twa +bairns scarce know much about that." + +"I guess that is so," chimed in Agnes. "And I think she is a pretty +woman and dresses nicely. So there!" + +"Ah, you young things cannot be expected to think as I do," smirked +Miss Titus. + +"I take that as a compliment, my dear," said the housekeeper +comfortably. "And I never expect tae be vairy old until I die. Still +and all, I am some older than Agnes." + +"That reminds me," said Miss Titus, more briskly (though it did not +remind her, for she had come into the Corner House for the special +purpose of broaching the subject that she now announced), "which of +you Kenways is it has found a silver bracelet?" + +"Now, _that_ is Agnes' affair," chuckled Mrs. McCall. + +"Oh! It is not Ruth that advertised?" queried the curious Miss Titus. + +"Na, na! Tell it her, Agnes," said the housekeeper. + +But Agnes was not sure she wished to describe to this gossipy +seamstress all the incidents connected with Queen Alma's bracelet. She +only said: + +"Of course, you do not know anybody who has lost such a bracelet?" + +"How can I tell till I have seen it?" demanded Miss Titus. + +"Well, we have about decided that until somebody comes who describes +the bracelet and can explain how and where it was lost that we had +better not display it at all," Agnes said, with more firmness than was +usual with her. + +"Oh!" sniffed Miss Titus. "I hope you do not think that _I_ have any +interest--any personal interest--in inquiring about it?" + +"If I thought it was yours, Miss Titus, I would let you see it +immediately," Agnes hastened to assure her. "But of course--" + +"There was a bracelet lost right on this street," said Miss Titus +earnestly, meaning Willow Street and pointing that way, "that never +was recovered to my knowledge." + +"Oh! You don't mean it?" cried the puzzled girl. "Of course, we don't +_know_ that this one belongs to any of those Gypsies--" + +"I should say not!" clucked Miss Titus. "The bracelet I mean was worn +by Sarah Turner. She and I went together regular when we were girls. +And going to prayer meeting one night, walking along here by the old +Corner House, Sarah dropped her bracelet." + +"But--but!" gasped Agnes, "that must have been some time ago, Miss +Titus." + +"It is according to how you compute time," the dressmaker said. "Sarah +and I were about of an age. And she isn't more than forty years old +right now!" + +"I don't think this bracelet we have is the one your friend lost," +Agnes said faintly, but confidently. She wanted to laugh but did not +dare. + +"How do you know?" demanded Miss Ann Titus in her snappy way--like the +biting off of a thread when she was at work. "I should know it, even +so long after it was lost, I assure you." + +"Why--how?" asked the Corner House girl curiously. + +"By the scratches on it," declared Miss Titus. "Sarah's brother John +made them with his pocketknife--on the inside of the bracelet--to see if +it was real silver. Oh! he was a bad boy--as bad as Sammy Pinkney. And +what do you think of _his_ running away again?" + +Agnes was glad the seamstress changed the subject right here. It +seemed to her as though she had noticed scratches on the bracelet the +Gypsies had placed in the basket the children bought. Could it be +possible-- + +"No! That is ridiculous!" Agnes told herself. "It could not be +possible that a bracelet lost forty years ago on Willow Street should +turn up at this late date. And, having found it, why should those +Gypsy women give it to Tess and Dot? There would be no sense in that." + +Yet, when the talkative Miss Titus had gone Agnes went to the room the +little folks kept their playthings and doll families in, and picked up +the Alice-doll which chanced that day to be wearing the silver band. +She removed it from the doll and took it to the window where the light +was better. + +Yes! It was true as she had thought. There were several crosswise +scratches on the inside of the circlet. They might easily have been +made by a boy's jackknife. + +"I declare! Who really knows where this bracelet came from, and who +actually owns it? Maybe it is not Queen Alma's ornament after all. +Dear, me! this Kenway family is forever getting mixed up in +difficulties that positively have nothing to do with _us_. + +"The silly old bracelet! Why couldn't those Gypsy women have sold that +basket to Margaret and Holly Pease, or to some other little girls +instead of to our Tess and Dot. Mrs. McCall says that some people seem +to attract trouble, just as lightning-rods attract lightning, and I +guess the Kenways are some of those people!" + +Neale did not come over again that day, so she had nobody to discuss +this new slant in the matter with. And if Agnes could not "talk out +loud" about her troubles, she was apt to grow irritable. At least, the +little girls said after supper that she was cross. + +"Ruth doesn't talk that way to us," declared Tess, quite hurt, and +gathering up her playthings from the various chairs in the sitting +room where the family usually gathered in the evenings. "I don't think +I should like her to be away all the time." + +This was Tess's polite way of criticising Agnes. But Dot was not so +hampered by politeness. + +"Crosspatch!" she exclaimed. "That's just what you are, Aggie Kenway." + +And she started for bed in quite a huff. Agnes was glad, a few minutes +later, that the two smaller girls had gone upstairs, even if they had +gone away in this unhappy state of mind. Mrs. McCall had come in and +sat down at some mending and the room was very quiet. Suddenly a noise +outside on the porch made Agnes raise her head and look at the nearest +window. + +"What is the matter wi' ye, lassie?" asked Mrs. McCall, startled. + +"Did you hear that?" whispered the girl, staring at the window. + +The shade was not drawn down to the sill, and the curtains were the +very thinnest of scrim. At the space of four inches below the shade +Agnes saw a white splotch against the pane. + +"Oh! See! A face!" gasped Agnes in three smothered shrieks. + +"Hech, mon! Such a flibbertigibbet as the lass is." Mrs. McCall +adjusted her glasses and stared, first at the frightened girl, then at +the window. But she, too, saw the face. "What can the matter be?" she +demanded, half rising. "Is that Neale O'Neil up tae some o' his +jokes?" + +"Oh, no, Mrs. Mac! It's not Neale," half sobbed Agnes. "I know who it +is. It's that awful junkman!" + +"A junkman?" repeated Mrs. McCall. "At this time o' night? We've +naethin' tae sellit him. The impudence!" + +She rose, quite determined to drive the importunate junkman away. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX--THE HOUSE IS HAUNTED + + +"Why do ye fash yoursel' so?" demanded Mrs. McCall in growing wonder +and exasperation. "Let me see the foolish man." + +She approached the window and raised the shade sharply. Then she +hoisted the sash itself. But Costello, the junkman, was gone. + +"There is naebody here," she complained, looking out on the side +porch. + +"But he _was_ there! You saw him," faintly declared Agnes. + +"He was nae ghost, if that's what you mean," said the housekeeper +dryly. "But what and who is he? A junkman? How do you come to know +junkmen, lassie?" + +"I only know that junkman," explained Agnes. + +"Aye?" The housekeeper's eyes as well as her voice was sharp. "And +when did you make his acquaintance? Costello, d'you say?" + +"So he said his name was. He--he is one of the Gypsies, I do believe!" + +"Gypsies! The idea! Is the house surrounded by Gypsies?" + +"I don't know, Mrs. McCall," said Agnes faintly. "I only know they are +giving us a lot of trouble." + +"Who are?" + +"The Gypsies." + +"Hear the lass!" exclaimed the troubled housekeeper. "Who ever heard +the like? Why should Gypsies give us any trouble? Is it that bit +bracelet the bairns play wi'? Then throw it out and let the Gypsies +have it." + +"But that would not be right, would it, Mrs. McCall?" demanded the +troubled girl. "If--if the bracelet belongs to them--" + +"Hech! To this junkman?" + +"He claims it," confessed Agnes. + +"Tut, tut! What is going on here that I do not know about?" demanded +the Scotch woman with deeper interest. + +She closed the window, drew the shade again, and returned to her seat. +She stared at Agnes rather sternly over her glasses. + +"Come now, my lass," said the housekeeper, "what has been going on so +slyly here? I never heard of any Costello, junkman or not. Who is he? +What does he want, peering in at a body's windows at night?" + +Agnes told the whole story then--and managed to tell it clearly enough +for the practical woman to gain a very good idea of the whole matter. + +"Of course," was her comment, grimly said, "you and that Neale could +not let well enough alone. You never can. If you had not advertised +the bit bracelet, this junkman would not have troubled you." + +"But we thought it ought to be advertised," murmured Agnes in defense. + +"Aye, aye! Ye thought mooch I've nae doot. And to little good purpose. +Well, 'tis a matter for Mr. Howbridge now, sure enough. And what he'll +say--" + +"But I hope that Costello does not come to the house again," ventured +the girl, in some lingering alarm. + +"You or Neale go to Mr. Howbridge's clerk in the morning and tell him. +He should tell the police of this crazy man. A Gypsy, too, you say?" + +"I think he must be. The bracelet seems to be a bone of contention +between two branches of the Gypsy tribe. If it belonged to that old +Queen Alma--" + +"Fiddle-faddle!" exclaimed the housekeeper. "Who ever heard of a queen +among those dirty Gypsies? 'Tis foolishness." + +The fact that Costello, the junkman, was lingering about the old +Corner House was not to be denied. They saw him again before bedtime. +Uncle Rufus had gone to bed and Linda was so easily frightened that +Mrs. McCall did not want to tell her. + +So the housekeeper grabbed a broom and started out on the side porch +with the avowed intention of "breaking the besom over the chiel's +head!" But the lurker refused to be caught and darted away into the +shadows. And all without making a sound, or revealing in any way what +his intention might be. + +Mrs. McCall and the trembling Agnes went all about the house, locking +each lower window, and of course all the doors. Tom Jonah, the old +Newfoundland dog, slept out of doors these warm nights, and sometimes +wandered away from the premises. + +"We ought to have Buster, Sammy Pinkney's bulldog, over here. Then +that horrid man would not dare come into the yard," Agnes said. + +"You might as well turn that old billy-goat loose," sniffed Mrs. +McCall. "He'd do little more harm than that bull pup--and nae more +good, either." + +They went to bed--earlier than usual, perhaps. And that may be the +reason why Agnes could not sleep. She considered the possibility of +Costello's climbing up the porch posts to the roof, and so reaching +the second story windows. + +"If he is going to haunt the house like this," Agnes declared to the +housekeeper in the morning, "let us make Neale come here and stay at +night." + +"That lad?" returned the housekeeper, who had no very exalted opinion +of boys in any case--no more than had Ruth. "Haven't we all troubles +enough, I want to know? This is a case for the police. You go tell Mr. +Howbridge's clerk about the Gypsy, that is what you do." + +But Agnes would not do even that without taking Neale into her +confidence. Neale at once was up in arms when he heard of the lurking +junkman. He declared he would come over and hide in the closet on the +Kenways' back porch and try to catch the man if he appeared again at +night. + +"He is a very strong man, Neale," objected Agnes. "And he might have a +knife, too. You know, those Gypsies are awfully fierce-tempered." + +"I don't know that he is," objected Neale. "He looked to me like just +plain crazy." + +"Well, you come down to the office with me," commanded Agnes. "I don't +even want to meet that excitable Costello man on the street when I am +alone." + +"I suppose you are scared, Aggie. But I don't think he would really +hurt you. Come on!" + +So they went down to Mr. Howbridge's office again and interviewed the +clerk, telling him first of all of the appearance of the junkman the +night before. + +"I had fairly to drive him out of these offices," said the clerk. "He +is of a very excitable temperament, to say the least. But I did not +think there was any real harm in him." + +"Just the same," Neale objected, "he wants to keep away from the house +and not frighten folks at night." + +"Oh, we will soon stop that," said Mr. Howbridge's representative. "I +will report it to the police." + +"But perhaps he does not mean any harm," faltered Agnes. + +"I do not think he does," said the man. "Nevertheless, we will warn +him." + +This promise relieved Agnes a good deal. She was tender-hearted and +she did not wish the junkman arrested. But when evening came and he +once more stared in at the windows, and tapped on the panes, and +wandered around and around the house-- + +"Well, this is too much!" cried the girl, when Neale and Mrs. McCall +both ran out to try to apprehend the marauder. "I do wish we had a +telephone. I am going to _beg_ Ruth to have one put in just as soon as +she comes back. We could call the police and they would catch that +man." + +Perhaps the police, had they been informed, might have caught +Costello. But Mrs. McCall and Neale did not. The latter remained until +the family went to bed and then the boy did a little lurking in the +bushes on his own account. But he did not spy the strange man again. + +In the morning, without saying anything to the Kenway family about it, +Neale O'Neil set out to find Costello, the junkman. He certainly was +not afraid of the man by daylight. He had had experience with him. + +From Mr. Howbridge's clerk he had already obtained the address the +junkman had given when he was at the office. The place was down by the +canal in the poorer section of the town, of course. + +There were several cellars and first-floors of old houses given up to +ragpickers and dealers in junk of all kinds. After some inquiry among +a people who quite evidently were used to dodging the answering of +incriminating questions, Neale learned that there had been a junkman +living in a certain room up to within a day or two before, whose name +was Costello. But he had disappeared. Oh, yes! Neale's informant was +quite sure that Costello had gone away for good. + +"But he had a horse and wagon. He had a business of his own. Where has +he gone?" demanded the boy. + +He was gone. That was all these people would tell him. They pointed +out the old shed where Costello had kept his horse. Was it a good +horse? It was a good looking horse, with smiles which seemed to +indicate that Costello was a true Gypsy and was not above "doctoring" +a horse into a deceiving appearance of worthiness. + +"He drove away with that horse. He did not say where he was going. I +guess he go to make a sale, eh? He will come back with some old plug +that he make look fine, eh?" + +This was the nearest to real information that Neale could obtain, and +this from a youth who worked for one of the established junk dealers. + +So Neale had to give up the inquiry as useless. When he came back to +the old Corner House he confessed to Agnes: + +"He is hiding somewhere, and coming around here after dark. Wish I had +a shotgun--" + +"Oh, Neale! How wicked!" + +"Loaded with rock-salt," grinned the boy. "A dose of that might do the +Gyp. a world of good." + + + + +CHAPTER XX--PLOTTERS AT WORK + + +The adventures of the Corner House girls and their friends did not +usually include anything very terrible. Perhaps there was no +particular peril threatened by Costello, the Gypsy junkman, who was +lurking about the premises at night. Just the same, Agnes Kenway was +inclined to do what Mrs. McCall suggested and throw the silver +bracelet out upon the ash heap. + +Of course they had no moral right to do that, and the housekeeper's +irritable suggestion was not to be thought of for a serious moment. +Yet Agnes would have been glad to get rid of the responsibility +connected with possession of Queen Alma's ornament. + +"If it is that Costello heirloom!" she said. "Maybe after all it +belongs to Miss Ann Titus's friend, Sarah Whatshername. Goodness! I +wonder how many other people will come to claim the old thing. I do +wish Ruth would return." + +"Just so you could hand the responsibility over to her," accused +Neale. + +"M-mm. Well?" + +"We ought to hunt up those Gypsies--'Beeg Jeem' and his crowd--and get +their side of the story," declared Neale. + +"No! I will not!" cried Agnes. "I have met all the Gypsies I ever want +to meet." + +But within the hour she met another. She was in the kitchen, and Linda +and Mrs. McCall were both in the front of the house, cleaning. There +came a timid-sounding rap on the door. Agnes unthinkingly threw it +open. + +A slender girl stood there--a girl younger than Agnes herself. This +stranger was very ragged, not at all clean looking, and very brown. +She had flashing white teeth and flashing black eyes. + +Agnes actually started back when she saw her and suppressed a scream. +For she instantly knew the stranger was one of the Gypsy tribe. That +she seemed to be alone was the only thing that kept Agnes from +slamming the door again right in the girl's face. + +"Will the kind lady give me something to eat?" whined the beggar. "I +am hungry. I eat nothing all the day." + +Agnes was doubtful of the truth of this. The dark girl did not look +ill-fed. But she had an appearance of need just the same; and it was a +rule of the Corner House household never to turn a hungry person away. + +"Stay there on the mat," Agnes finally said. "Don't come in. I will +see what I can find for you." + +"Yes, Ma'am," said the girl. + +"Haven't you had any breakfast?" asked Agnes, moving toward the +pantry, and her sympathies becoming excited. + +"No, Ma'am. And no supper last night. Nobody give me nothing." + +"Well," said Agnes, with more warmth, expanding to this tale of woe, +as was natural, "I will see what I can find." + +She found a plate heaped with bread and meat and a wedge of cake, +which she brought to the screen door. The girl had stood there +motionless, only her black eyes roved about the kitchen and seemed to +mark everything in it. + +"Sit down there on the steps and eat it," said Agnes, passing the +plate through a narrow opening, as she might have handed food into the +cage of an animal at a menagerie. She really was half afraid of the +girl just because she looked so much like a Gypsy. + +The stranger ate as though she was quite as ravenously hungry as she +had claimed to be. There could be no doubt that the food disappeared +with remarkable celerity. She sat for a moment or two after she had +eaten the last crumb with the plate in her lap. Then she rose and +brought it timidly to the door. + +"Did you have enough?" asked Agnes, feeling less afraid now. + +"Oh, yes, Lady! It was so nice," and the girl flashed her teeth in a +beaming smile. She was quite a pretty girl--if she had only been clean +and decently dressed. + +She handed the plate to Agnes, and then turned and ran out of the yard +and down the street as fast as she could run. Agnes stared after her +in increased amazement. Why had she run away? + +"If she is a Gypsy--Well, they are queer people, that is sure. Oh! What +is this?" + +Her fingers had found something on the under side of the plate. She +turned it up and saw a soiled piece of paper sticking there. Agnes, +wondering, if no longer alarmed, drew the paper from the plate, turned +it over, and saw that some words were scrawled in blue pencil on the +paper. + +"Goodness me! More mysteries!" gasped the Corner House girl. + +Briefly and plainly the message read: _Do not_ _give the bracelet to +Miguel. He is a thief._ + +Agnes sat down and stared almost breathlessly at the paper. That it +was a threatening command from one crowd of Gypsies or the other, she +was sure. But whether it was from Big Jim's crowd or from Costello, +the junkman, she did not know. + +Her first thought, after she had digested the matter for a few +moments, was to run with the paper to Mrs. McCall. But Mrs. McCall was +not at all sympathetic about this bracelet matter. She was only angry +with the Gypsies, and, perhaps, a little angry with Agnes for having +unwittingly added to the trouble by putting the advertisement in the +paper. + +Neale, after all, could be her only confident; and, making sure that +no other dark-visaged person was in sight about the house, the girl +ran down the long yard beyond the garden to the stable and Billy +Bumps' quarters, and there climbed the board fence that separated the +Kenway yard from that of Con Murphy, the cobbler. + +"Hoo, hoo! Hoo, hoo!" Agnes called, looking over the top rail of the +fence. + +"Hoo, hoo, yerself!" croaked a voice. "I'd have yez know we kape no +owls on these premises." + +The bent figure of Mr. Murphy, always busy at his bench, was visible +through the back window of his shop. + +"Is it that young yahoo called Neale O'Neil that yez want, Miss +Aggie?" added the smiling cobbler. "If so--" + +But Neale O'Neil appeared just then to answer to the summons of his +girl friend. He had been to the store, and he tumbled all his packages +on Con's bench to run out into the yard to greet Agnes. + +"What's happened now?" he cried, seeing in the girl's face that +something out of the ordinary troubled her. + +"Oh, Neale! what do you think?" she gasped. "There's been another of +them at the house." + +"Not one of those Gypsies?" + +"I believe she was." + +"Oh! A _she_!" said the boy, much relieved. "Well, she didn't bite +you, of course?" + +"Come here and look at this," commanded his friend. + +Neale went to the fence, climbed up and took the paper that Agnes had +found stuck to the plate on which she had placed the food for the +Gypsy girl. When he had read the abrupt and unsigned message, Neale +began to grow excited, too. + +"Where did you get this?" + +Agnes told him about it. Of course, the hungry girl had been a +messenger from one party of Gypsies or the other. Which? was Agnes' +eager question. + +"Guess I can answer that," Neale said gravely. "It does look as though +things were getting complicated. I bet this girl you fed is one of Big +Jim's bunch." + +"How can you be so positive?" + +"There are probably only two parties of Gypsies fighting over the +possession of that old bracelet. Now, I learned down there in that +junk neighborhood that Costello--the Costello who is bothering us--is +called Miguel. They are all Costellos--Big Jim's crowd and all. June +Wildwood says so. They distinguish our junkman from themselves by +calling him by his first name. Therefore--" + +"Oh, of course I see," sighed Agnes. "It is a terrible mess, Neale! I +do wish Mr. Howbridge would get back. Or that the police would find +that junkman and shut him up. Or--or that Ruthie would come home!" + +"Oh, don't be a baby, Aggie!" ejaculated Neale. + +"Who is the baby, I want to know?" flashed back the girl. "I'm not!" + +"Then pluck up your spirits and don't turn on the sprinkler," said the +slangy youth. "Why, this is nothing to cry about. When it is all over +we shall be looking back at the mystery as something great in our +young lives." + +"You can try to laugh if you want to," snapped Agnes. "But being +haunted by a junkman, and getting notes from Gypsies like that! Huh! +who wouldn't be scared? Why, we don't know what those people might do +to us if we give up the bracelet to the wrong person." + +"It doesn't belong to any of the Gypsies, perhaps." + +"That is exactly it!" she cried. "Maybe, after all, it is the property +of Miss Ann Titus' friend, Sarah." + +"And was lost somewhere on Willow Street--about where your garage now +stands--forty years ago!" scoffed Neale. "Well, you are pretty soft, +Agnes Kenway." + +This naturally angered the girl, and she pouted and got down from the +fence without replying. As she went back up the yard she saw Mrs. +Pinkney, with her head tied up with a towel, shaking a dustcloth at +one of her front windows. It at least changed the current of the +girl's thought. + +"Oh, Mrs. Pinkney!" she cried, running across the street to speak to +Sammy's mother, "have you heard anything?" + +"About Sammy? Not a word," answered the woman. "I have to keep working +all the time, Agnes Kenway, or I should go insane. I know I should! I +have cleaned this whole house, from attic to cellar, three times since +Sammy ran away." + +"Why, Mrs. Pinkney! If you don't go insane--and I don't believe you +will--I am sure you will overwork and be ill." + +"I must keep doing. I must keep going. If I sit down to think I +imagine the most horrible things happening to the dear child. It is +awful!" + +Agnes knew that never before had the woman been so much disturbed by +her boy's absences from home. It seemed as though she really had lost +control of herself, and the Corner House girl was quite worried over +Mrs. Pinkney. + +"If we could only help you and Mr. Pinkney," said Agnes doubtfully. +"Do you suppose it would do any good to go off in the car again--Neale +and me and your husband--to look for Sammy?" + +"Mr. Pinkney is so tied down by his business that he cannot go just +now," she sighed. "And he has put the search into the hands of an +agency. I did not want the police to get after Sammy. But what could +we do? And they say there are Gypsies around." + +"Oh!" gasped Agnes. "Do you suppose--?" + +"You never can tell what those people will do. I am told they have +stolen children." + +"Isn't that more talk than anything else?" asked Agnes, trying to +speak quite casually. + +"I don't know. One of my neighbors tells me she hears that there is a +big encampment of Gypsies out on the Buckshot Road. You know, out +beyond the Poole farm. They have autovans instead of horses, so they +say, and maybe could carry any children they stole out of the state in +a very short time." + +"Oh, dear me, Mrs. Pinkney! I would not think of such things," Agnes +urged. "It does not sound reasonable." + +"That the Gypsies should travel by auto instead of behind horse?" +rejoined Sammy's mother. "Why not? Everybody else is using automobiles +for transportation. I tell Mr. Pinkney that if we had a machine +perhaps Sammy might not have been so eager to leave home." + +"Oh, dear, me!" thought Agnes, as she made her way home again, "I am +sorry for Mr. Pinkney. Just now I guess he is having a hard time at +home as well as at business!" + +But she treasured up what she had heard about the Gypsy encampment on +the Buckshot Road to tell Neale--when she should not be so "put-out" +with him. The Buckshot Road was in an entirely different direction +from Milton than that they had followed in their automobile on the +memorable search for Sammy. Agnes did not suppose for a moment that +the missing boy had gone with the Gypsies. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI--TESS AND DOT TAKE A HAND + + +Up to this time Tess and Dot Kenway had heard nothing about the Gypsy +junkman haunting the house at night, or about other threatening things +connected with the wonderful silver bracelet. + +Their young minds were quite as excited about the ornament as in the +beginning, however; for in the first place they had to keep run +exactly of whose turn it was to "wear" the Gypsies' gift. + +"I don't see what we'll do about it when Alice grows up," Dot said. +She was always looking forward in imagination to the time when her +favorite doll should become adult. "She will want to wear that belt, +Tess, for evening dress. You know, a lady's jewelry should belong to +her." + +"I'm not going to give up my share to your Alice-doll," announced +Tess, quite firmly for her. "And, anyway, you must not be so sure that +it is going to be ours all the time. See! Aggie says we can't take it +out of the house to play with." + +"I don't care!" whined Dot. "I don't want to give it back to those +Gypsy ladies." + +"Neither do I. But we must of course, if we can find them. Honest is +honest." + +"It--it's awful uncomfortable to be so dreadful' honest," blurted out +the smaller girl. "And I think they meant us to have the bracelet." + +"All right, then. It's only polite to offer it back to them. Then if +they don't want it we'll know that it is ours and even Ruth won't say +anything." + +"But--but when my Alice-doll grows up--" + +"Now, don't be a little piggie, Dot Kenway!" exclaimed Tess, rather +crossly. "When your wrist gets big enough so the bracelet won't slip +over your hand so easy, you will want to wear it yourself--just as I +do. And Agnes wants it, too." + +"Oh! But it's ours--if it isn't the Gypsy ladies'," Dot hastened to +say. + +Two claimants for the ornament were quite enough. She did not wish to +hear of any other people desiring to wear it. + +As it chanced, Tess and Dot heard about the Gypsy encampment on the +Buckshot Road through the tongue of neighborhood gossip, quite as had +Sammy's mother. Margaret and Holly Pease heard the store man tell +their mother; and having enviously eyed the silver bracelet in the +possession of the Kenway girls, they ran to tell the latter about the +Gypsies. + +"They've come back," declared Margaret decidedly, "to look for that +bracelet you've got. You'll see them soon enough." + +"Oh, Margie! do you think so?" murmured Tess, while Dot was +immediately so horror-stricken that tears came to her eyes. + +"Maybe they will bring the police and have you locked up," continued +the cheerful Pease child. "You know they might accuse you of stealing +the bracelet." + +"We never!" wailed Dot. "We never! They gave it to us!" + +"Well, they are going to take it back, so now!" Margaret Pease +declared. + +"I don't think it is nice of you to say what you do, Margie," said +Tess. "Everybody knows we are honest. Why! if Dot and I knew how to +find them, we would take the bracelet right to the Gypsy ladies. +Wouldn't we, Dot?" + +"But--but we don't know where to find them," blurted out the youngest +Corner House girl. + +"You can find them I guess--out on the Buckshot Road." + +"We don't know that _our_ Gypsy ladies are there," said Tess, with +some defiance. + +"You don't dare go to see," said Margaret Pease. + +It was a question to trouble the minds of Tess and Dot. Should they +try to find the Gypsies, and see if the very ladies who had given them +the bracelet were in that encampment? + +At least it was a leading question in Tess Kenway's mind. It must be +confessed that Dot only hoped it would prove a false alarm. She was +very grateful to the strange Gypsy women for having put the silver +ornament in the green and yellow basket; but she hoped never to see +those two kind women again! + +The uncertainty was so great in both of the small girls' minds that +they said nothing at all about it in the hearing of any other member +of the family. Had Ruth been at home they might have confided in her. +They had always confided everything to their eldest sister. But just +now the two smaller Corner House girls were living their own lives, +very much shut away from the existence Agnes, for instance, was +leading. + +Agnes had a secret--several of them, indeed. She did not take Tess and +Dot into her confidence. So, if for no other reason, the smaller girls +did not talk to Agnes about the Gypsies. + +The Kenways owned some tenement property in a much poorer part of the +town than that prominent corner on which the Corner House stood. Early +in their coming to Milton from Bloomsburg, the Corner House girls had +become acquainted with the humble tenants whose rents helped swell the +funds which Mr. Howbridge cared for and administered. + +Some of these poorer people, especially the children near their own +age, interested the Kenway girls very much because they met these +poorer children in school. So when news was brought to Agnes one +afternoon (it was soon after lunch) that Maria Maroni, whose father +kept the coal, wood, ice and vegetable cellar in one of the Stower +houses and who possessed a wife and big family of children as well, +had been taken ill, Agnes was much disturbed. + +Agnes liked Maria Maroni. Maria was very bright and forward in her +studies and was a pretty Italian girl, as well. The Maronis lived much +better than they once had, too. They now occupied one of the upstairs +tenements over Mrs. Kranz's delicatessen store, instead of all living +in the basement. + +The boy who ran into the Kenway yard and told Agnes this while she was +tying up the gladioli stems after a particularly hard night's rain, +did not seem to be an Italian. Indeed, he was no boy that Agnes ever +remembered having seen before. + +But tenants were changing all the time over there where Maria lived. +This might be a new boy in that neighborhood. And, anyway, Agnes was +not bothered in her mind much about the boy. It was Maria's illness +that troubled her. + +"What is the matter with the poor girl?" Agnes wanted to know. "What +does the doctor say it is?" + +"They ain't got no doc," said the boy. "She's just sick, Maria is. I +don't know what she's got besides." + +This sounded bad enough to Agnes. And the fact that the sick girl had +no medical attention was the greater urge for the Kenway girl to do +something about it. Of course, Joe and his wife must have a doctor for +Maria at once. + +Agnes went into the house and told Mrs. McCall about it. She even +borrowed the green and yellow basket from the little girls and packed +some jelly and a bowl of broth and other nice things to take to Maria +Maroni. The Kenways seldom went to the tenements empty-handed. + +She would have taken Neale with her, only she felt that after their +incipient "quarrel" of the previous morning she did not care +immediately to make up with the boy. Sometimes she felt that Neale +O'Neil took advantage of her easy disposition. + +So Agnes went off alone with her basket. Half an hour later a boy rang +the front door bell of the Corner House. He had a note for Mrs. +McCall. It was written in blue pencil, and while the housekeeper was +finding her reading glasses the messenger ran away so that she could +not question him. + +The note purported to be from Hedden, Mr. Howbridge's butler. It said +that the lawyer had been "brought home" and had asked for Mrs. McCall +to be sent for. It urged expedition in her answer to the request, and +it threw Mrs. McCall into "quite a flutter" as she told Linda and Aunt +Sarah Maltby. + +"The puir mon!" wailed the Scotch woman who before she came to the old +Corner House to care for the Kenway household had been housekeeper for +Mr. Howbridge himself for many years. "There is something sad happened +to him, nae doot. I must go awa' wi' me at aince. See to the bairns, +Miss Maltby, that's the good soul. Even Agnes is not in the hoose." + +"Of course I will see to them--if it becomes necessary," said Aunt +Sarah. + +Her idea of attending to the younger children, however, was to remain +in her own room knitting, only occasionally going to the head of the +back stairs to ask Linda if Tess and Dot were all right. The Finnish +girl's answer was always "Shure, Mum," and in her opinion Tess and Dot +were all right as long as she did not see that they were in trouble. + +To tell the truth, Linda saw the smaller girls very little after Mrs. +McCall hurried out of the house to take the street car for the +lawyer's residence. Once Linda observed Tess and Dot in the side yard +talking to a boy through the pickets. She had no idea that the +sharp-featured boy was the same who had brought the news of Maria +Maroni's illness to Agnes, and the message from Hedden to Mrs. McCall! + +The boy in question had come slowly along the pavement on Willow +Street, muttering to himself as he approached as though saying over +several sentences that he had learned by rote. He was quite evidently +a keen-minded boy, but he was not at all a trustworthy looking one. + +Tess and Dot both saw him, and that he was a stranger made the little +girls eye him curiously. When he hailed them they were not quite sure +whether they ought to reply or not. + +[Illustration: "They want that silver thing back. It wasn't meant for +you."] + +"I guess you don't know us," Tess said doubtfully. "You don't belong +in this neighborhood." + +"I know you all right," said the boy. "You're the two girls those +women sold the basket to. I know you." + +"Oh!" gasped Tess. + +"The Gypsy ladies!" murmured Dot. + +"That's the one. They sold you the basket for forty-five cents. Didn't +they?" + +"Yes," admitted Tess. + +"And it's _ours_," cried Dot. "We paid for it." + +"That's all right," said the boy slowly. "But you didn't buy what was +in it. No, sir! They want it back." + +"Oh! The basket?" cried Tess. + +"What you found in it." + +The boy seemed very sure of what he was saying, but he spoke slowly. + +"They want that silver thing back. It wasn't meant for you. It was a +mistake. You know very well it isn't yours. If you are honest--and you +told them you were--you will bring it back to them." + +"Oh! They did ask us if we were honest," Tess said faintly. "And of +course we are. Aren't we, Dot?" + +"Why--why-- Do we have to be so dreadful' honest," whispered the +smallest Corner House girl, quite borne down with woe. + +"Of course we have. Just think of what Ruthie would say," murmured +Tess. Then to the boy: "Where are those ladies?" + +"Huh?" he asked. "What ladies?" + +"The Gypsy ladies we bought the basket from?" + +"Oh, _them_?" he rejoined hurriedly, glancing along the street with +eagerness. "You go right out along this street," and he pointed in the +direction from which he had come. "You keep on walking until you reach +the brick-yard." + +"Oh! Are they camped there?" asked Tess. + +"No. But a man with an automobile will meet you there. He is a man who +will take you right to the Gypsy camp and bring you back again. Don't +be afraid, kids. It's all right." + +He went away then, and the little girls could not call him back. They +wanted to ask further questions; but it was evident that the boy had +delivered his message and was not to be cross-examined. + +"What _shall_ we do?" Tess exclaimed. + +"Oh, let's wait. Let's wait till Ruth comes home," cried Dot, saying +something very sensible indeed. + +But responsibility weighed heavily on Tess's mind. She considered that +if the Gypsy women wished their bracelet returned, it was her duty to +take it to them without delay. Besides, there was the man in the +automobile waiting for them. + +Why the man had not come to the house with the car, or why he had not +brought the two Gypsy women to the Corner House, were queries that did +not occur to the little girls. If Tess Kenway was nothing else, she +was strictly honest. + +"No," she sighed, "we cannot wait. We must go and see the women now. I +will go in and get the bracelet, Dot. Do you want your hat? Mrs. +McCall and Agnes are both away. We will have to go right over and tend +to this ourselves." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII--EXCITEMENT GALORE + + +When Agnes Kenway reached the tenement where Maria Maroni resided and +found that brisk young person helping in the delicatessen store as she +did almost every day during the busy hours and when there was no +school, the Corner House girl was surprised; but she was not +suspicious. + +That is, she was not suspicious of any plot really aimed at the +happiness of the Corner House family. She merely believed that the +strange boy had deliberately fooled her for an idle purpose. + +"Maria Maroni! What do you think?" Agnes burst out. "Who could that +boy be? Oh, I'd like to catch him! I'd make him sorry he told me such +a story." + +"It is too bad you were troubled so, Agnes," said Maria, when she +understood all about it. "I can't imagine who that boy could be. But I +am glad you came over to see us, never mind what the reason is that +brings you." + +"A sight you are for sore eyes yet," declared the ponderous Mrs. +Kranz, who had kissed Agnes warmly when she first appeared. "Come the +back room in and sit down. Let Ikey tend to the customers yet, Maria. +We will visit with Agnes, and have some tea and sweet crackers." + +"And you must tell me of somebody in the row, Mrs. Kranz, who needs +these delicacies. Somebody who is ill," said Agnes. "I must not take +them home again. And Maria looks altogether too healthy for jelly and +chicken broth." + +Mrs. Kranz laughed at that. But she added with seriousness: "There is +always somebody sick here in the tenements, Miss Agnes. They will not +take care themselfs of--no! I tell them warm flannels and good food is +better than doctors yet. But they will not mind me." She sighed. + +"Who is ill now?" asked Agnes, at once interested. She loved to play +"Lady Bountiful"; and, really, the Kenway sisters had done a great +deal of good among their poor tenants and others in the row. + +"Mrs. Leary. You know, her new baby died and the poor woman," said +Maria quickly, "is sick of grief, I do believe." + +"Ach, yes!" cried Mrs. Kranz. "She needs the cheerful word. You see +her, Miss Agnes. Then she be better--sure!" + +"Thank you!" cried Agnes, dimpling and blushing. "Do you really think +I can help her?" + +"And there is little Susie Marowsky," urged the delicatessen +shopkeeper. "That child is fading away like a sick rose. She iss doing +just that! If she could have country eggs and country milk--Ach! If we +were all rich!" and she sighed ponderously again. + +"I'll tell our Ruth about her," said Agnes eagerly. "And I'll see her, +too, before I go home. I'll give her the broth, yes? And Mrs. Leary +the jelly, bread, and fruit?" + +"No!" cried Mrs. Kranz. "The fruit to Dominic Nevin, the scissors +grinder. He craves fruit. You know, he cut his hand and got blood +poisoning, and it was so long yet that he could not work. You see him, +too, Miss Agnes." + +So altogether, what with the tea and cakes and the visits to the sick, +Agnes was away from the Corner House quite three hours. When she was +on her way home she was delayed by an unforeseen incident too. + +At the corner of Willow Street not far from the brick-yard a figure +suddenly darted into Agnes' path. She was naturally startled by the +sudden appearance of this figure, and doubly so when she saw it was +the Costello that she knew as the junkman, and whose first name she +now believed to be Miguel. + +"What do you want? Go away!" cried the girl faintly, backing away from +the vehement little man. + +"Oh, do not be afraid! You are the honest Kenway I am sure. You have +Queen Alma's bracelet," urged the little man. "You will give her to +me--yes?" + +"I--I haven't it," cried Agnes, looking all about for help and seeing +nobody near. + +"Ha!" ejaculated the man. "You have not give it to Beeg Jeem?" + +"We have given it to nobody. And we will not let you or anybody have +it until Mr. Howbridge tells us what to do. Go away!" begged Agnes. + +"I go to that man. He no have the Queen Alma bracelet. _You_ have it--" + +"Just as sure as I get home," cried the frightened Agnes, "I will send +that bracelet down to the lawyer's office and they must keep it. It +shall be in the house no longer! Don't you dare come there for it!" + +She got past him then and ran as hard as she could along Willow +Street. When she finally looked back she discovered that the man had +not followed her, but had disappeared. + +"Oh, dear me! I don't care what the children say. That bracelet goes +into Mr. Howbridge's safe this very afternoon. Neale must take it +there for me," Agnes Kenway decided. + +She reached the side door of the Corner House just as Mrs. McCall +entered the front door, having got off the car at the corner. The +housekeeper came through the hall and into the rear premises a good +deal like a whirlwind. She was so excited that Agnes forgot her own +fright and stared at the housekeeper breathlessly. + +"Is it you home again, Agnes Kenway?" cried Mrs. McCall. "Well, thanks +be for _that_. Then you are all right." + +"Why, of course! Though he did scare me. But what is the matter with +you, Mrs. McCall?" + +"What is the matter wi' me? A plenty. A plenty, I tellit ye. If I had +that jackanapes of a boy I'd shake him well, so I would!" + +"What has Neale been doing now?" cried the girl. + +"Not Neale." + +"Then is it Sammy?" + +"Nor Sammy Pinkney. 'Tis that other lad that came here wi' a lying +note tae get me clear across town for naething!" + +"Why, Mrs. McCall! what can you mean? Did a boy fool you, too?" + +"Hech!" The woman started and stared at the girl. "Who brought you +news of that little girl being sick?" + +"But she wasn't sick!" cried Agnes. "That boy was an awful little +story-teller." + +"Ye was fooled then? That Maria Maroni--" + +"Was not ill at all." + +"And," cried Mrs. McCall, "that boy who brought a note to me from +Hedden never came from Mr. Howbridge's house at all. It nearly scar't +me tae death! It said Mr. Howbridge was ill. He isn't even at home +yet, and when Mr. Hedden heard from his master this morning he was all +right--the gude mon!" + +"Oh, Mrs. McCall!" gasped Agnes, gazing at the housekeeper with +terrified visage. "What can it mean?" + +"Somebody has foolit us weel," ejaculated the enraged housekeeper. + +"But why?" + +The woman turned swiftly. She had grown suddenly pale. She called up +the back stairs for Linda. A sleepy voice replied: + +"Here I be, mum!" + +"Where are the children? Where are Tess and Dot?" demanded Mrs. +McCall, her voice husky. + +"They was in the yard, mum, the last I see of them." + +"That girl!" ejaculated the housekeeper angrily. "She neglects +everything. If there's harm happened to those bairns--" + +She rushed to the porch. Uncle Rufus was coming slowly up from the +garden, hoe and rake over his shoulder. It was evident that the old +colored man had been working steadily, and for some time, among the +vegetables. + +"Oh, Uncle Rufus!" cried the excited woman. + +"Ya-as'm! Ya-as'm! I's a-comin'," said the old man rather querulously. + +"Step here a minute," said Mrs. McCall. + +"I's a-steppin', Ma'am," grumbled the other. "Does seem as though dey +wants me for fust one t'ing an' den anudder. I don't no more'n git +t'roo one chore den sumpin' else hops right out at me. Lawsy me!" and +he mopped his bald brown brow with a big bandanna. + +"I only want to ask you something," said the housekeeper, less +raspingly. "Are the little ones down there? Have you seen them?" + +"Them chillun? No'm. I ain't seen 'em fo' some time. They was playin' +up this-a-way den." + +"How long ago?" + +"I done reckon it was nigh two hours ago." + +"Hunt for them, Agnes!" gasped the housekeeper. "I fear me something +bad has happened. You, Linda," for the Finnish girl now appeared, "run +to the neighbors--all of them! See if you can find those bairns." + +"Tess and Dottie, mum?" cried the Finnish girl, already in tears. "Oh! +they ain't losted are they?" + +"For all _you_ know they are!" declared Mrs. McCall. "Look around the +house for them, Uncle Rufus. I will look inside--" + +"They may be upstairs with Aunt Sarah," cried Agnes, getting her +breath at last. + +"I'll know that in a moment!" declared Mrs. McCall, and darted within. + +Agnes ran in the other direction. She felt such a lump in her throat +that she could scarcely speak or breathe. The possibility of something +having happened to the little girls--and with Ruth away!--cost the +second Corner House girl every last bit of her self-control. + +"Oh, Neale! Neale!" she murmured over and over again, as she ran to +the lower end of the premises. + +She fairly threw herself at the fence and scrambled to her usual +perch. There he was cleaning Mr. Con Murphy's yard. + +"Neale!" she gasped. At first he did not hear her, but she drubbed +upon the fence with the toes of her shoes. "Neale!" + +"Why, hullo, Aggie!" exclaimed the boy, turning around and seeing her. + +"Oh, Neale! Come here!" + +He was already coming closer. He saw that again she was much +overwrought. + +"What has happened now?" + +"Have you seen Tess and Dot?" + +"Not to-day." + +"I--I mean within a little while? Two hours?" + +"I tell you I have not seen them at all to-day. I have been busy right +here for Con." + +"Then they are gone! The Gypsies have got them!" + +For Agnes, without much logic of thought, had immediately jumped to +this conclusion. Neale stared. + +"What sort of talk is that, Agnes?" he demanded. "You know that can't +be so." + +"I tell you it is so! It must be so! They got Mrs. McCall and me out +of the house--" + +"Who did?" interrupted Neale, getting hastily over the fence and +taking the girl's hand. "Now, tell me all about it--everything!" + +As well as she could for her excitement and fear, the girl told the +story of the boy who had brought her the false message about Maria +Maroni, and then about the message Mrs. McCall had received calling +her across town. + +"It must be that they have kidnapped the children!" moaned Agnes. + +"Not likely," declared the boy. "The kids have just gone visiting +without asking leave. In fact, there was nobody to ask. But I see that +there is a game on just the same." + +He started hastily for the Corner House and Agnes trotted beside him. + +"But where _are_ Tess and Dot?" she demanded. + +"How do I know?" he returned. "I want to find out if there is +something else missing." + +"What do you mean?" + +"That bracelet." + +"Goodness, Neale! Is it that bracelet that has brought us trouble +again?" + +"It looks like a plot all right to me. A plot to get you and Mrs. +McCall out of the house so that somebody could slip in and steal the +bracelet. Didn't that ever occur to you?" + +"Goodness me, Neale!" cried Agnes again, but with sudden relief in her +voice. "If that is all it is I'll be glad if the old bracelet is +stolen. Then it cannot make us any more trouble, that is one sure +thing!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII--A SURPRISING MEETING + + +Tess and Dot Kenway, with no suspicion that anything was awaiting them +save the possible loss of the silver bracelet, but otherwise quite +enjoying the adventure, walked hurriedly along Willow Street as far as +the brick-yard. That they were disobeying a strict injunction in +taking the bracelet out of the house was a matter quite overlooked at +the time. + +They came to the corner and there, sure enough, was a big, dusty +automobile, with a big, dark man in the driver's seat. He smiled at +the two little girls and Tess remembered him instantly. + +"Oh, Dot!" she exclaimed, "it is the man we saw in this auto with the +young Gypsy lady when we were driving home with Scalawag from Mr. +Howbridge's the other day. Don't you remember?" + +"Yes," said Dot, with a sigh. "I guess it is the same one. Oh, dear, +me!" + +For the nearer the time came to give up the silver bracelet, the worse +Dot felt about it. + +The big Gypsy looked around at the two little girls and smiled +broadly. + +"You leetle ladies tak' ride with Beeg Jeem?" he asked. "You go to see +the poor Gypsy women who let you have the fine bracelet to play with? +Yes?" + +"He knows all about it, Tess," murmured Dot. + +"Yes, we will give them back the bracelet," Tess said firmly to the +Gypsy man. "But we will not give it up to anybody else." + +"Get right into my car," said Big Jim, reaching back to open the +tonneau door. "You shall be taken to the camp and there find the ones +who gave you the bracelet. Sure!" + +There was something quite "grownupish" in thus getting into the big +car all alone, and Tess and Dot were rather thrilled as they seated +themselves on the back seat and the Gypsy drove them away. + +Fifteen minutes or so later Agnes came to this very corner and had her +unpleasant interview with Miguel Costello. But of course by that time +the children were far away. + +The big Gypsy drove them very rapidly and by lonely roads into a part +of the country that Tess and Dot never remembered having seen before. +Whenever he saw anybody on the road, either afoot or in other cars, +Big Jim increased his speed and flashed by them so that there was +little likelihood of these other people seeing that the two little +girls were other than Gypsy girls. + +He did nothing to frighten Tess and Dot. Indeed, he was so smiling and +so pleasant that they enjoyed the drive immensely and came finally in +a state of keen enjoyment to the camp which was made a little back +from the highway. + +"Well, if we have to give up the bracelet," sighed Tess, as they got +out of the car, "we can say that we have had a fine ride." + +"That is all right. But how will my Alice-doll feel when she finds out +she can't wear that pretty belt again?" said Dot. + +There were many people in the camp, both men and women and children. +The latter kept at a distance from Tess and Dot, but stared at them +very curiously. They kept the dogs away from the visitors, too, and +the little girls were glad of that. + +"Where can we find the two ladies that--that sold us the basket?" asked +Tess politely, of Big Jim. + +"You look around, leetle ladies. You find," he assured them. + +There were four or five motor vans of good size in which the Gypsies +evidently lived while they were traveling. But there were several +tents set up as well. It was a big camp. + +Timidly at first the two sisters, hand in hand, the silver bracelet +firmly clutched inside Tess's dress against her side, began walking +about. They tried to ask questions about the women they sought; but +nobody seemed to understand. They all smiled and shook their heads. + +"Dear me! it must be dreadful to be born a foreigner," Dot finally +said. "How can they make themselves understood _at all_?" + +"But they seem to be very pleasant persons," Tess rejoined decidedly. + +The children ran away from them. Perhaps they had been ordered to by +the older Gypsies. By and by Tess, at least, grew somewhat worried +when they did not find either of the women who had sold them the +yellow and green basket. Dot, secretly, hoped the two in question had +gone away. + +Suddenly, however, the two Kenway girls came face to face with +somebody they did know. But so astonished were they by this discovery +that for a long minute neither could believe her eyes! + +"Sammy Pinkney!" gasped Tess at last. + +"It--ain't--_never_!" murmured the smaller girl. + +The figure which had tried to dodge around the end of a motor van to +escape observation looked nothing at all like the Sammy Pinkney the +Kenway girls had formerly known. Never in their experience of +Sammy--not even when he had slipped down the chimney at the old Corner +House and landed on the hearth, a very sooty Santa Claus--had the boy +looked so disgracefully ragged and dirty. + +"Well, what's the matter with me?" he demanded defiantly. + +"Why--why there looks to be most _every_thing the matter with you, +Sammy Pinkney," declared Tess, with disgust. "What _do_ you s'pose +your mother would say to you?" + +"I ain't going home to find out," said Sammy. + +"And--and your pants are all tored," gasped Dot. + +"Oh, that happened long ago," said Sammy, quite as airy as the +trousers. "And I'm having the time of my life here. Nobody sends me +errands, or makes me--er--weed beet beds! So there! I can do just as I +please." + +"You look as though you had, Sammy," was Tess's critical speech. "I +guess your mother wouldn't want you home looking the way you do." + +"I look well enough," he declared defiantly. "And don't you tell where +I am. Will you?" + +"But, Sammy!" exclaimed Dot, "you ran away to be a pirate." + +"What if I did?" + +"But you can't be a pirate here." + +"I can be a Gypsy. And that's lots more fun. If I joined a pirate crew +I couldn't get to be captain right away of course, so I would have to +mind somebody. Here I don't have to mind anybody at all." + +"Well, I never!" ejaculated Tess Kenway. + +"Well, I never!" repeated Dot, with similar emphasis. + +"Say, what are you kids here for?" demanded Sammy, with an attempt to +turn the conversation from his own evident failings. + +"Oh, we were brought here on a visit," Tess returned rather haughtily. + +"Huh! You _was_? Who you visiting? Is Aggie with you? Or Neale?" and +he looked around suddenly as though choosing a way of escape. + +"We are here all alone," said Dot reassuringly. "You needn't be +afraid, Sammy." + +"Who's afraid?" he said gruffly. + +"You would be if Neale was with us, for Neale would make you go home," +said the smallest Kenway girl. + +"But who brought you? What you here for? Oh! That old bracelet I bet!" + +"Yes," sighed Dot. "They want it back." + +"Who want it back?" + +"Those two ladies that sold us the basket," explained Tess. + +"Are they with this bunch of Gypsies?" asked Sammy in surprise. "I +haven't seen them. And I've been here two whole days." + +"How did you come to be a Gypsy, Sammy?" asked Dot with much +curiosity. + +"Why, I--er--Well, I lost my clothes and my money and didn't have much +to eat and that big Gypsy saw me on the road and asked me if I wanted +to ride. So I came here with him and he let me stay. And nobody does a +thing to me. I licked one boy," added Sammy with satisfaction, "so the +others let me alone." + +"But haven't you seen either of those two ladies that sold us the +basket?" demanded Tess, beginning to be worried a little. + +"Nope. I don't believe they are here." + +"But that man says they are here," cried Tess. + +"Let's go ask him. I--I won't give that bracelet to anybody else but +one of those ladies." + +"Crickey!" exclaimed Sammy. "Don't feel so bad about it. Course there +is a mistake somehow. These folks are real nice folks. They wouldn't +fool you." + +The three, Sammy looking very important, went to find Big Jim. He was +just as smiling as ever. + +"Oh, yes! The little ladies are not to be worried. The women they want +will soon come." + +"You see?" said Sammy, boldly. "It will be all right. Why, these +people treat you _right_. I tell you! You can do just as you please in +a Gypsy camp and nobody says anything to you." + +"See!" exclaimed Tess suddenly. "Are they packing up to leave? Or do +they stay here all the time?" + +It was now late afternoon. Instead of the supper fires being revived, +they were smothered. Men and women had begun loading the heavier vans. +The tents were coming down. Clotheslines stretched between the trees +were now being coiled by the children. All manner of rubbish was being +thrown into the bushes. + +"I don't know if they are moving. I'll ask," said Sammy, somewhat in +doubt. + +He went to a boy bigger than himself, but who seemed to be friendly. +The little girls waited, staring all about for the two women with whom +they had business. + +"I don't care," whispered Dot. "If they don't come pretty soon, and +these Gypsies are going away from here, we'll just go back home, Tess. +We _can't_ give them the bracelet if we don't see them." + +"But we do not want to walk home," her sister said slowly in return. +"And we ought to make Sammy go with us." + +"You try to _make_ Sammy do anything!" exclaimed Dot, with scorn. + +Their boy friend returned, swaggering as usual. "Well, they are going +to move," he said. "But I'm going with them. That boy--he was the one I +licked, but he's a good kid--says they are going to a pond where the +fishing is great. Wish I had my fishpole." + +"But you must come back home with us, Sammy," began Tess gravely. + +"Not much I won't! Don't you think it," cried Sammy. "But you might +get my fishing tackle and jointed pole and sneak 'em out to me. +There's good kids!" + +"We will do nothing sneaky for you at all, Sammy Pinkney!" exclaimed +Tess indignantly. + +"Aw, go on! You can just as easy." + +"We can, but we won't. So there! And if you don't go home with us when +the man takes us back in his car we certainly will tell where you +are." + +"Be a telltale. _I_ don't care," cried Sammy, roughly. "And I won't +say just where we are going from here, so you needn't think my folks +will find me." + +One of the closed vans--something like a moving van only with windows +in the sides, a stove-pipe sticking out of the roof, and a door at the +rear, with steps--seemed now to be ready to start. A man climbed into +the front seat to drive it. Several women and smaller children got in +at the rear after the various bales and packages that had been tossed +in. The big man suddenly shouted and beckoned to Tess and Dot. + +"Here, little ladies," he said, still smiling his wide smile. "You +come go wit' my mudder, eh? Take you to find the Gypsy women you want +to see." + +"But--er--Mr. Gypsy," said Tess, somewhat disturbed now, "we must go +back home." + +"Sure. Tak' you home soon as you see those women and give them what +you got for them." + +He strode across the camp to them. His smile was quite as wide, but +did not seem to forecast as much good-nature as at first. + +"Come now! Get in!" he commanded. + +"Hey!" cried Sammy. "What you doing? Those little girls are friends of +mine. You want to let them ride in that open car--not in that box. What +d'you think we are?" + +"Get out the way, boy!" commanded Big Jim. + +He seized Tess suddenly by the shoulders, swung her up bodily despite +her screams and tossed her through the rear door of the Gypsy van. Dot +followed so quickly that she could scarcely utter a frightened gasp. + +"Hey! Stop that! Those are the Kenway girls. Why! Mr. Howbridge will +come after them and he'll--he'll--" + +Sammy's excited threat was stopped in his throat. Big Jim's huge hand +caught the boy a heavy blow upon the side of his head. The next moment +he was shot into the motor-van too and the door was shut. + +He heard Tess and Dot sobbing somewhere among the women and children +already crowded into the van. It was a stuffy place, for none of the +windows were open. Although this nomadic people lived mostly out of +doors, and never under a real roof if they could help it, they did not +seem to mind the smothering atmosphere of the van which now, with a +sudden lurch, started out of the place of encampment. + +"Never you mind, Tess and Dot, they won't dare carry you far. Maybe +they are taking you home anyway," said Sammy in a low voice. "The +first time they stop and let us out we'll run away. I will get you +home all right." + +"You--you can't get yourself home, Sammy," sobbed Dot. + +"Maybe you like it being a Gypsy, but we don't," added Tess. + +"I'll fix it for you all right--" + +One of the old crones reached out in the semi-darkness and slapped +Sammy across the mouth. + +"Shut up!" she commanded harshly. But when she tried to slap the boy +again she screamed. It must be confessed that Sammy bit her! + +"You lemme alone," snarled the boy captive. "And don't you hit those +girls. If you do I--I'll bite the whole lot of you!" + +The women jabbered a good deal together in their own tongue; but +nobody tried to interfere with Sammy thereafter. He shoved his way +into the van until he stood beside Tess and Dot. + +"Let's not cry about it," he whispered. "That won't get us anywhere, +that is sure. But the very first chance we get--" + +No chance for escape however was likely to arise while the Gypsy troop +were en route. The children could hear the rumble of the vans behind. +Soon Big Jim in his touring car passed this first van and shouted to +the driver. Then the procession settled into a steady rate of speed +and the three little captives had not the least idea in which +direction they were headed nor where they were bound. + + * * * * * + +Back at the old Corner House affairs were in a terrible state of +confusion. Linda had returned from her voyage among the neighbors with +absolutely no news of the smaller girls. And Agnes had discovered that +the silver bracelet was missing. + +"It was Tess's day for wearing it, but she did not have it on when she +went out to play," the older sister explained. "Do you suppose the +house has been robbed, Neale O'Neil?" + +Neale had been examining closely the piece of paper that Agnes had +found stuck to the plate on which she had fed the beggar girl the day +before and also the note Mrs. McCall had received purporting to come +from Mr. Howbridge's butler. Both were written in blue pencil, and by +the same hand without any doubt. + +"It's a plot clear enough. And naturally we may believe that it was +not hatched by that Miguel Costello, the junkman. It looks as though +it was done by Big Jim's crowd." + +"But what have they done with the bairns?" demanded the housekeeper, +in horror. + +"Oh, Neale! have they stolen Tess and Dot, as well as the silver +bracelet?" was Agnes' bitter cry. + +"Got me. Don't know," muttered the boy. "And what would they want the +children for, anyway?" + +"Let us find out if any Gypsies have been seen about the house this +afternoon," Agnes proposed. "You see, Neale. Don't send Linda." + +Linda, indeed, was in a hopeless state. She didn't know, declared Mrs. +McCall, whether she was on her head or her heels! + +Neale ran out and searched the neighborhood over. When he came back he +had found nobody who had set eyes on any Gypsies; but he had heard +from Mrs. Pease that Gypsies were camped out of town. The store man +had told her so. + +"Oh!" gasped Agnes, suddenly remembering. "I heard about that. Mrs. +Pinkney told me. They are on the Buckshot Road, out beyond where +Carrie Poole lives. You know, Neale." + +"Sure I know where the Poole place is," admitted Neale. "We have all +been there often enough. And I can get the car--" + +"Do! Do!" begged Mrs. McCall. "You cannot go too quickly, Neale +O'Neil. And take the police wi' ye, laddie!" + +"Take me with you, Neale!" commanded Agnes. "We can find a constable +out that way if we need one. I know Mr. Ben Stryker who lives just +beyond the Pooles. And he is a constable, for he stopped the car once +when I was driving and said he would have to arrest me if I did not +drive slower." + +"Sure!" said Neale. "Agnes knows all the traffic cops on the route, I +bet. But we don't _know_ that the children have gone with the +Gypsies." + +"And we never will know if you stand here and argue. Anyway, it looks +as though the silver bracelet has been stolen by them." + +"Or by somebody," granted the boy. + +"Ne'er mind the bit bracelet," commanded the housekeeper. "Find Tess +and Dot. I am going to put on my bonnet and shawl and go to the police +station mysel'. Do you children hurry away in the car as you +promised." + +It was already supper time, but nobody thought of that meal, unless it +was Aunt Sarah. When she came down to see what the matter was--why the +evening meal was so delayed--she found Linda sobbing with her apron +over her head in the kitchen and the tea kettle boiled completely dry. + +That was nothing, however, to the condition of affairs at one o'clock +that night when Ruth, with Luke and Cecile Shepard, arrived at the old +Corner House. They had been delayed at the station half an hour while +Ruth telephoned for and obtained a comfortable touring car for her +visitors and herself. Agnes did not have to beg her older sister to +put in a telephone. After this experience Ruth was determined to do +just that. + +The party arrived home to find the Corner House lit up as though for a +reception. But it was not in honor of their arrival. The telegram +announcing Ruth's coming had scarcely been noticed by Mrs. McCall. + +Mrs. McCall had recovered a measure of her composure and good sense; +but she could scarcely welcome the guests properly. Aunt Sarah Maltby +had gone to bed, announcing that she was utterly prostrated and should +never get up again unless Tess and Dot were found. Linda and Uncle +Rufus were equally distracted. + +"But where are Agnes and Neale?" Ruth demanded, very white and +determined. "What are they doing?" + +"They started out in the machine around eight o'clock," explained Mrs. +McCall. "They are searching high and low for the puir bairns." + +"All alone?" gasped Ruth. + +"Mr. Pinkney has gone with them. And I believe they were to pick up a +constable. That Neale O'Neil declares he will raid every Gypsy camp +and tramp's roost in the county. And Sammy's father took a pistol with +him." + +"And you let Agnes go with them!" murmured Ruth. "Suppose she gets +shot?" + +"My maircy!" cried the housekeeper, clasping her hands. "I never +thought about that pistol being dangerous, any more than Uncle Rufus's +gun with the broken hammer." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV--THE CAPTIVES + + +That ride, shut in the Gypsy van, was one that neither Tess nor Dot +nor Sammy Pinkney were likely soon to forget. The car plunged along +the country road, and the distance the party traveled was +considerable, although the direction was circuitous and did not, after +two hours, take the Gypsy clan much farther from Milton than they had +been at the previous camp. + +By eleven o'clock they pulled off the road into a little glade that +had been well known to the leaders of the party. A new camp was +established in a very short time. Tents were again erected, fires +kindled for the late supper, and the life of the Gypsy town was +re-begun. + +But Sammy and the two little Corner House girls were forbidden to +leave the van in which they had been made to ride. + +Big Jim came over himself, banged Sammy with his broad palm, and told +him: + +"You keep-a them here--you see? If those kids get out, I knock you +good. See?" + +Sammy saw stars at least! He would not answer the man. There was +something beside stubbornness to Sammy Pinkney. But stubbornness stood +him in good stead just now. + +"Don't you mind, Tess and Dot," he whispered, his own voice broken +with half-stifled sobs. "I'll get you out of it. We'll run away first +chance we get." + +"But it never does _you_ any good to run away, Sammy," complained +Tess. "You only get into trouble. Dot and I don't want to be beaten by +that man. He is horrid." + +"I wish we could see those nice ladies who sold us the basket," wailed +Dot, quite desperate now. "I--I'd be _glad_ to give 'em back the +bracelet." + +"Sh!" hissed Sammy. "We'll run away and we'll take the bracelet along. +These Gyps sha'n't ever get it again, so there!" + +"Humph! I don't see what you have to say about _that_, Sammy," scoffed +Tess. "If the women own it, of course they have got to have it. But I +don't want that Big Jim to have it--not at all!" + +"He won't get it. You leave it to me," said Sammy, with recovered +assurance. + +The van door was neither locked nor barred. But if the children had +stepped out of it the firelight would have revealed their figures +instantly to the Gypsies. + +Either the women bending over the pots and pans at the fires or the +children running about the encampment would have raised a hue and cry +if the little captives had attempted to run away. And there were a +dozen burly men sitting about, smoking and talking and awaiting the +call to supper. + +This meal was finally prepared. The fumes from the pots reached the +nostrils of Tess, Dot, and Sammy, and they were all ravenously hungry. +Nor were they denied food. The Gypsies evidently had no intention of +maltreating the captives in any particular as long as they obeyed and +did not try to escape. + +One young woman brought a great pan of stew and bread and three spoons +to the van and set it on the upper step for the children. + +"You eat," said she, smiling, and the firelight shining on her gold +earrings. "It do you goot--yes?" + +"Oh, Miss Gypsy!" begged Tess, "we want to go home." + +"That all right. Beeg Jeem tak-a you. To-morrow, maybe." + +She went away hurriedly. But she had left them a plentiful supper. The +three were too ravenous to be delicate. They each seized a spoon and, +as Sammy advised, "dug in." + +"This is the way all Gypsies eat," he said, proud of his knowledge. +"Sometimes the men use their pocket knives to cut up the meat. But +they don't seem to have any forks. And I guess forks aren't necessary +anyway." + +"But they are nicer than fingers," objected Tess. + +"Huh? Are they?" observed the young barbarian. + +After they had completely cleared the pan of every scrap and eaten +every crumb of bread and drunk the milk that had been brought to them +in a quart cup, Dot naturally gave way to sleepiness. She began to +whimper a little too. + +"If that big, bad Gypsy man doesn't take us home pretty soon I shall +have to sleep here, Sister," she complained. + +"You lie right down on this bench," said Tess kindly, "and I will +cover you up and you can sleep as long as you want to." + +So Dot did this. But Sammy was not at all sleepy. His mind was too +active for that. He was prowling about the more or less littered van. + +"Say!" he whispered to Tess, "there is a little window here in the +front overlooking the driver's seat. And it swings on a hinge like a +door." + +"I don't care, Sammy. I--I'm sleepy, too," confessed Tess, with a yawn +behind her hand. + +"Say! don't _you_ go to sleep like a big kid," snapped the boy. "We've +got to get away from these Gyps." + +"I thought you were going to stay with them forever." + +"Not to let that Big Jim bang me over the head. Not much!" ejaculated +Sammy fiercely. "If my father saw him do that--" + +"But your father isn't here. If he was--" + +"If he was you can just bet," said Sammy with confidence, "that Big +Jim would not dare hit me." + +"I--I wish your father would come and take us all home then," went on +Tess, with another yawn. + +"Well," admitted Sammy, "I wish he would, too. Crickey! but it's awful +to have girls along, whether you are a pirate or a Gypsy." + +"You needn't talk!" snapped Tess, quite tart for her. "We did not ask +to come. And you were here 'fore we got here. And now you can't get +away any more than Dot and I can." + +"Sh!" advised Sammy again, and earnestly. "I got an idea." + +"What is it?" asked Tess, without much curiosity. + +"This here window in front!" whispered the boy. "We can open it. It is +all dark at that end of the van. If we can slide out on to the seat +we'll climb down in the dark and get into the woods. I know the way to +the road. I can see a patch of it through the window. What say?" + +"But Dot? She sleeps so hard," breathed Tess. + +"We can poke her through the window on to the seat. Then we will crawl +through. If she doesn't wake up and holler--" + +"I'll stop her from hollering," agreed Tess firmly. "We'll try it, +Sammy, before those awful women get back into the van." + +Fortunately for the attempt of the captives their own supper had been +dispatched with promptness. The Gypsies were still sitting about over +the meal when Sammy opened that front window in the van. + +He and Tess lifted Dot, who complained but faintly and kept her eyes +tightly closed, and pushed her feet first through the small window. +The driver's seat was broad and roomy. The little girl lay there all +right while first Tess and then Sammy crept through the window. + +It was dark here, and they could scarcely see the way to the ground. +But Sammy ventured down first, and after barking his shins a little +found the step and whispered his directions to Tess about passing Dot +down to him. + +They actually got to the ground themselves and brought the smallest +Corner House girl with them without any serious mishap. Sammy tried to +carry Dot over his shoulder, but he could not stagger far with her. +And, too, the sleepy child began to object. + +"Sh! Keep still!" hissed her sister in Dot's ear. "Do you want the +Gypsies to get you again?" + +She had to help Sammy carry the child, however. Dot was such a heavy +sleeper--especially when she first went to sleep--that nothing could +really bring her back to realities. The two stumbled along with her in +the deep shadows and actually reached the woods that bordered the +encampment. + +Suddenly a dog barked. Somebody shouted to the animal and it subsided +with a sullen growl. But in a moment another dog began to yap. The +guards of the camp realized that something was going wrong, although +as yet none of the dogs had scented the escaping children exactly. + +"Oh, hurry! Hurry!" gasped Tess. "The dogs will chase us." + +"I am afraid they will," admitted Sammy. "We got to hide our trail." + +"How'll we do that, Sammy?" gasped Tess. + +"Like the Indians do," declared the boy. "We got to find a stream of +water and wade in it." + +"But I've got shoes and stockings on. And Mrs. McCall says we can't go +wading without asking permission." + +"Crickey! how you going to run away from these Gypsies if you've got +to mind what you're told all the time?" asked Sammy desperately. + +"But won't the water be cold? And why wade in it, anyway?" + +"So the dogs can't follow our scent. They can't follow scent through +water. Come on. We got to find a brook or something." + +"There's the canal," ventured Tess, in an awed whisper. + +"The canal, your granny!" exclaimed the exasperated boy. "That's over +your head, Tess Kenway." + +"Well! I don't know of any other water. Oh! Hear those dogs bark." + +"Don't you s'pose I've got ears?" snapped Sammy. + +"They sound awful savage." + +"Yes. They've got some savage dogs," admitted the boy. + +"Will they bite us? Oh, Sammy! will they bite us?" + +"Not if they don't catch us," replied the boy, staggering on, bearing +the heavier end of Dot while Tess carried her sister's feet. + +They suddenly burst through a fringe of bushes upon the open road. +There was just starlight enough to show them the way. The dogs were +still barking vociferously back at the Gypsy camp. But there seemed to +be no pursuit. + +"Oh, my gracious! I've torn my frock," gasped Tess. "Do wait, Sammy." + +The boy stopped. Indeed he had to, for his own breath had given out. +The three fell right down on the grass beside the road, and Dot began +to whimper. + +"You stop her, Tess!" exclaimed Sammy. "You said you could. She will +bring those Gypsies right here." + +"Dot! Dot!" whispered Tess, shaking the smaller girl. "Do you want to +be a prisoner again? Keep still!" + +"My--my knees are cold," whined Dot. + +"Je-ru-sa-lem!" gasped Sammy explosively. "_Now_ she's done it! We're +caught again." + +He jumped to his feet, but not quickly enough to escape the +outstretched hand of the figure that had suddenly appeared beside +them. A dark face bent over the trio of frightened children. + +"He's a Gyp!" cried Sammy. "We're done for, Tess!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV--IT MUST BE ALL RIGHT + + +As Mrs McCall told Ruth Kenway when she arrived with Luke and Cecile +at the old Corner House, the other Kenway sister and Neale O'Neil had +not started out on their hunt for the Gypsy encampment alone. Mr. +Pinkney, hearing of the absence of the smaller girls, had volunteered +to go with the searchers. + +"Somehow, my wife feels that Sammy may be with Tess and Dot," he +explained to Neale and Agnes. "I never contradict her at such times. +And perhaps he is. No knowing where that boy of mine is likely to turn +up, anyway." + +"But you do not suppose for one instant, Mr. Pinkney, that Sammy has +come and coaxed my sisters to run away?" cried Agnes from the tonneau, +as the car started out through Willow Street. + +"I am not so sure about that. You know, he got Dot to run away with +him once," chuckled Mr. Pinkney. + +"This is nothing like that, I am sure!" declared Agnes. + +"I am with you there, Aggie," admitted Neale. "I guess this is a +serious affair. The Gypsies are in it." + +Between the two, the boy and the girl told Mr. Pinkney all about the +silver bracelet and the events connected with it. The man listened +with appreciation. + +"I don't know, of course, anything about the fight between the two +factions of Gypsies over what you call Queen Alma's bracelet--" + +"If it doesn't prove to be Sarah Turner's bracelet," interjected +Agnes. + +"Yes. That is possible. They may have just found it--those Gypsy women. +And the story Costello, the junkman, told us might be a fake," said +Neale. + +"However," broke in Mr. Pinkney again, "there is a chance that the +bracelet was given to Tess and Dot for a different purpose from any +you have suggested." + +"What do you mean by that?" asked Neale and Agnes in unison. + +"It is a fact that some Gypsies do steal children. Now, don't be +startled! It isn't commonly done. They are often accused without good +reason. But Gypsies are always more or less mixed up with traveling +show people. There are many small tent shows traveling about the +country at this time of year." + +"Like Twomley & Sorber's circus," burst out Agnes. + +"Smaller than that. Just one-ring affairs. And the shows are regular +'fly-by-nights.' Gypsies fraternize with them of course. And often +children are trained in those shows to be acrobats who are doubtless +picked up around the country--usually children who have no guardians. +And the Gypsies sometimes pick up such." + +"Oh, but, Mr. Pinkney!" cried Agnes, "we are so careful of Tess and +Dot. Usually, I mean. I don't know what Ruth will say when she gets +home to-night. It looks as though we had been very careless while she +was gone." + +"I know what children have to go through in a circus," said Neale +soberly. "But why should the Gypsies have selected Tess and Dot?" + +"Because, you tell me, they were playing circus, and doing stunts at +the very time the Gypsy women sold them the basket." + +"Oh! So they were," agreed Agnes. "Oh, Neale!" + +"Crickey! It might be, I suppose. I never thought of that," admitted +the boy. + +He was carefully running the car while this talk was going on. He soon +drove past the Poole place and later stopped at a little house where +the constable lived. + +Mr. Ben Stryker was at home. It was not often that automobile parties +called at his door. Usually they did not want to see Mr. Stryker, who +was a stickler for the "rules of the road." + +"What's the matter?" asked the constable, coming out to the car. "Want +to pay me your fine, so as not to have to wait to see the Justice of +the Peace?" + +He said it jokingly. When he heard about the missing Kenway children +and of the reason to fear Gypsies had something to do with it, he +jumped into the car, taking Mr. Pinkney's place in the front seat +beside Neale. + +"I've had my eye on Big Jim Costello ever since he has been back +here," Stryker declared. "I sent him away to jail once. He is a bad +one. And if he is mixed up in any kidnapping, I'll put him into the +penitentiary for a long term." + +"But of course we would not want to make them trouble if the children +went to the camp alone," ventured Agnes. "You know, they might have +been hunting for the two women who sold them the basket." + +"Those Gypsies know what to do in such a case. They know where I live, +and they should have brought the two little girls to me. I certainly +have it in for Big Jim." + +But as we have seen, when the party arrived at the spot where the +Gypsies had been encamped, not a trace of them was left. That is, no +trace that pointed to the time or the direction of their departure. + +"Maybe these Gypsies did not have a thing to do with the absence of +Tess and Dot," whispered Agnes. + +"And maybe they had everything to do with it," declared Neale, aloud. +"Looks to me as though they had turned the trick and escaped." + +"And in those motor-vans they can cover a deal of ground," suggested +Mr. Pinkney. + +Agnes broke down at this point and wept. The constable had got out and +with the aid of his pocket lamp searched the vicinity. He saw plainly +where the vans had turned into the dusty road and the direction they +had taken. + +"The best we can do is to follow them," he advised. "If I can catch +them inside the county I'll be able to handle them. And if they go +into the next county I'll get help. Well search their vans, no matter +where we catch them. All ready?" + +The party went on. To catch the moving Gypsies was no easy matter. +Frequently Mr. Stryker got down to look at the tracks. This was at +every cross road. + +Fortunately the wheels of one of the Gypsy vans had a peculiar tread. +It was easy to see the marks of these wheels in the dust. Therefore, +although the pursuit was slow, they managed to be sure they were going +right. + +From eleven o'clock until three in the morning the motor-car was +driven over the circuitous route the nomad procession had taken +earlier in the night. Then they came to the new encampment. + +Their approach was announced by the barking of the mongrel dogs that +guarded the camp. Half the tribe seemed to be awake when the car +slowed down and stopped on the roadway. Mr. Stryker got out and +shouted for Big Jim. + +"Come out here!" said the constable threateningly. "I know you are +here, and I want to talk with you, Jim Costello." + +"Well, whose chicken roost has been raided now?" demanded Big Jim, +approaching with his smile and his impudence both in evidence. + +"No chicken thievery," snapped Stryker, flashing his electric light +into the big Gypsy's face. "Where are those kids?" + +"What kids? I got my own--and there's a raft of them. I'll give you a +couple if you want." + +Big Jim seemed perfectly calm and the other Gypsies were like him. +They routed out every family in the camp. The constable and Neale +searched the tents and the vans. No trace of Tess and Dot was to be +found. + +"Everything you lay to the poor Gypsy," said Big Jim complainingly. +"Now it is not chickens--it is kids. Bah!" + +He slouched away. Stryker called after him: + +"Never mind, Jim. We'll get you yet! You watch your step." + +He came back to the Kenway car shaking his head. "I guess they have +not been here. I'll come back to-morrow when the Gypsies don't expect +me and look again if your little sisters do not turn up elsewhere. +What shall we do now?" + +Agnes was weeping so that she could not speak. Neale shook his head +gloomily. Mr. Pinkney sighed. + +"Well," the latter said, "we might as well start for home. No good +staying here." + +"I'll get you to Milton in much shorter time than it took to get +here," said the constable. "Keep right ahead, Mr. O'Neil. We'll take +the first turn to the right and run on till we come to Hampton Mills. +It's pretty near a straight road from there to Milton. And I can get a +ride from the Mills to my place with a fellow I know who passes my +house every morning." + +Neale started the car and they left the buzzing camp behind them. They +had no idea that the moment the sound of the car died away the Gypsies +leaped to action, packed their goods and chattels again, and the tribe +started swiftly for the State line. Big Jim did not mean to be caught +if he could help it by Constable Stryker, who knew his record. + +The Corner House car whirred over the rather good roads to Hampton +Mills and there the constable parted from them. He promised to report +any news he might get of the absent children, and they were to send +him word if Tess and Dot were found. + +The car rounded the pond where Sammy had had his adventure at the +ice-house and had ruined his knickerbockers. It was a straight road +from that point to Milton. Going up the hill beside the pond in the +gray light of dawn, they saw ahead of them a man laboring on in the +middle of the road with a child upon his shoulders, while two other +small figures walked beside him, clinging to his coat. + +"There's somebody else moving," said Mr. Pinkney to Agnes. "What do +you know about little children being abroad at this time of the +morning?" + +"Shall we give them a lift?" asked Neale. "Only I don't want to stop +on this hill." + +But he did. He stopped in another minute because Agnes uttered a +piercing scream. + +"Oh, Tessie! Oh, Dot! It's them! It's the children!" + +"Great Moses!" ejaculated Mr. Pinkney, forced likewise into +excitement, "is that Sammy Pinkney?" + +The man carrying Dot turned quickly. Tess and Sammy both uttered eager +yelps of recognition. Dot bobbed sleepily above the head of the man +who carried her pickaback. + +"Oh, Agnes! isn't this my day for wearing that bracelet? Say, isn't +it?" she demanded. + +The dark man came forward, speaking very politely and swiftly. + +"It is the honest Kenway--yes? You remember Costello? I am he. I find +your sisters with the bad Gypsies--yes. Then you will give me Queen +Alma's bracelet--the great heirloom of our family? I am friend--I bring +children back for you. You give me bracelet?" + +Tess and Dot were tumbled into their sister's arms. Mr. Pinkney jumped +out of the car and grabbed Sammy before he could run. + +Costello, the junkman, repeated his request over and over while Agnes +was greeting the two little girls as they deserved to be greeted. +Finally he made some impression upon her mind. + +"Oh, dear me!" Agnes cried in exasperation, "how can I give it you? I +don't know where it is. It's been stolen." + +"Stolen? That Beeg Jeem!" Again Costello exploded in his native +tongue. + +Tess nestled close to Agnes. She lifted her lips and whispered in her +sister's ear: + +"Don't tell him. He's a Gypsy, too, though I guess he is a good one. I +have got that bracelet inside my dress. It's safe." + +They did not tell Costello, the junkman, that at this time. In fact, +it was some months before Mr. Howbridge, by direction of the Court, +gave Queen Alma's bracelet into the hands of Miguel Costello, who +really proved in the end that he had the better right to the bracelet +that undoubtedly had once belonged to the Queen of the Spanish +Gypsies. + +It had not been merely by chance that the young Gypsy woman who had +sold the green and yellow basket to Tess and Dot had dropped that +ornament into the basket. She had worn the bracelet, for she was Big +Jim's daughter. + +Without doubt it was the intention of the Gypsies to engage the little +girls' interest through this bracelet and get their confidence, to +bring about the very situation which they finally consummated. One of +the women confessed in court that they could sell Tess and Dot for +acrobats. Or they thought they could. + +The appearance of Miguel Costello in Milton, claiming the rightful +ownership of the silver bracelet, made the matter unexpectedly +difficult for Big Jim and his clan. Indeed, the Kenways had much to +thank Miguel Costello for. + +However, these mysteries were explained long after this particular +morning on which the children were recovered. No such home-coming had +ever been imagined, and the old Corner House and vicinity staged a +celebration that will long be remembered. + +Luke Shepard had been put to bed soon after his arrival. But he would +not be content until he got up again and came downstairs in his +bathrobe to greet the returned wanderers. + +Agnes just threw herself into Ruth's arms when she first saw her elder +sister, crying: + +"Oh! don't you _dare_ ever go away again, Ruth Kenway, without taking +the rest of us with you. We're not fit to be left alone." + +"I am afraid some day, Agnes, you will have to get along without me," +said Ruth placidly, but smiling into Luke's eyes as she said it. "You +know, we are growing up." + +"Aggie isn't ever going to grow up," grumbled Neale. "She is just a +kid." + +"Oh, is _that_ so, Mr. Smartie?" cried Agnes, suddenly drying her +eyes. "I'd have you know I am just as much grown up as you are." + +"Oh, dear, me, I'm so sleepy," moaned Dot. "I--I didn't sleep very well +at all last night." + +"Goodness! I should think Sammy and I ought to be the ones to be +sleepy. We didn't have any chance at all!" Tess exclaimed. + +As for Sammy, he was taken home by an apparently very stern father to +meet a wildly grateful mother. Mrs. Pinkney drew the sting from all +verbal punishment Mr. Pinkney might have given his son. + +"And the dear boy! I knew he had not forgotten us when I found he had +taken that picture with him. Did you, Sammy?" + +"Did I what, Mom?" asked Sammy, his mouth comfortably filled with +cake. + +"That picture. You know, the one we all had taken down at Pleasant +Cove that time. The one of your father and you and me that you kept on +your bureau. When I saw that you had taken that with you to remember +us by----" + +"Oh, crickey, Mom! Buster, the bull pup, ate that old picture up a +month ago," said the nonsentimental Sammy. + + + THE END + + + + +Charming Stories for Girls +THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS SERIES +By Grace Brooks Hill + + +Four girls from eight to fourteen years of age receive word that a +rich bachelor uncle has died, leaving them the old Corner House he +occupied. They move into it and then the fun begins. What they find +and do will provoke many a hearty laugh. Later, they enter school and +make many friends. One of these invites the girls to spend a few weeks +at a bungalow owned by her parents, and the adventures they meet with +make very interesting reading. Clean, wholesome stories of humor and +adventure, sure to appeal to all young girls. + + 1 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS. + 2 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AT SCHOOL. + 3 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS UNDER CANVAS. + 4 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS IN A PLAY. + 5 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS' ODD FIND. + 6 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON A TOUR. + 7 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS GROWING UP. + 8 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS SNOWBOUND. + 9 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON A HOUSEBOAT. + 10 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AMONG THE GYPSIES. + 11 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON PALM ISLAND. + 12 THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS SOLVE A MYSTERY. + +BARSE & HOPKINS + +New York, N.Y., Newark, N.J. + + + + +"THE POLLY" SERIES +By Dorothy Whitehill + + +Polly Pendleton is a resourceful, wide-awake American girl who goes to +a boarding school on the Hudson River some miles above New York. By +her pluck and resourcefulness, she soon makes a place for herself and +this she holds right through the course. The account of boarding +school life is faithful and pleasing and will attract every girl in +her teens. + +Cloth, large 12 mo. Illustrated + + 1 POLLY'S FIRST SUMMER YEAR AT BOARDING SCHOOL + 2 POLLY'S SUMMER VACATION + 3 POLLY'S SENIOR YEAR AT BOARDING SCHOOL + 4 POLLY SEES THE WORLD AT WAR + 5 POLLY AND LOIS + 6 POLLY AND BOB + 7 POLLY'S RE-UNION + 8 POLLY'S POLLY + +BARSE & HOPKINS + +Publishers + +New York, N.Y., Newark, N.J. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AMONG THE +GYPSIES*** + + +******* This file should be named 36400.txt or 36400.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/4/0/36400 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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