"I insist on knowing if your master is in his house, or, if he has gone away, when he will return," demanded Miss Jones.
The gypsy's answer was to pick up a huge stone and hurl it at Madge's head.
At this Miss Jenny Ann, a few weeks before the most timid of women, seized the gypsy by the shoulders and pushed her inside her tent.
"Don't come out again," ordered Miss Jenny. "We intend to wait here until your master comes to speak to us. I don't suppose he will be absent any length of time."
"He ain't going to be back until just before night," the gypsy muttered. But she made no effort, at first, to come out of her tent.
Miss Jenny Ann took up her position on a log half-way between the house and the tent. She insisted that her companions rest near her. It was early afternoon. Now that they knew their way, the trip across the island had occupied only half the length of time that it had taken when Madge and Phil crossed.
Madge and Phil craned their necks and stared at the house.
The deaf and dumb boy grinned cheerfully at them. Except for his presence the house looked silent and deserted. Perhaps the prisoner had been taken away.
"Miss Jenny Ann, do you remember the story of Richard, the Lion-Hearted, and Blondel?" asked Phil plaintively.
Miss Jones was thinking of something else. "What was it, Phyllis?" she asked abstractedly.