“What do you say, Mary Lou?” asked her father.
Mary Louise hesitated.
“I—I—honestly believe she has more right to that necklace than Miss Grant has,” she answered finally. “So, if she will turn over the box of gold, I’m for letting her keep the necklace.... But what do you think, Daddy?”
“It’s your case, dear. You are to decide.”
“Suppose you go with her, Daddy, while she gets both things. And be sure to keep your revolver handy, too,” she added shrewdly.
Mr. Gay smiled: he was delighted with his daughter’s keenness.
The gypsy nodded and, stepping inside her tent, produced the box of gold. The identical tin box which Elsie had mentioned. The necklace she took from a pocket in her petticoat. Meekly she handed both treasures to Mr. Gay.
“How beautiful that necklace is!” cried Mary Louise, in admiration of the sparkling jewels. It was the first time in her life that she had ever seen real rubies, and their radiance, their brilliance, was breath-taking.
“I love them dearly,” said the gypsy, in a hoarse tone, filled with emotion.
Mary Louise took the necklace from her father and handed it back to its real owner.