“Yes. Mrs. Jones saw the gypsies stealing the chickens.... Well, did they give you some supper?”
“They certainly did. Mira—she is the fortune teller—let me sleep in her tent. She said she used to play with my father when he was a little boy, when my grandfather—old Mr. Grant, you recall—let the gypsies camp at Dark Cedars. She told me I could stay with them all my life if I wanted to.”
“You didn’t expect to do it, did you?”
“I wanted to get a job. But there isn’t much I can do, I’m afraid.” The young girl’s voice grew sad; the future looked gray to her.
Mary Louise took her hand.
“You’re coming right back to Riverside with Daddy and me,” she announced. “Your aunt Mattie will have to promise to treat you better, or else she won’t get her gold pieces back!”
“She’ll be furious about the necklace,” said Elsie.
“No, she won’t either. I happen to know that she’ll be thankful to have the matter all cleared up. And she’ll be delighted to get the money, because that is rightfully hers.”
Mr. Gay leaned over and picked up his pack.
“You go get your things together, Elsie,” he said, “and say good-bye to your gypsy friends. We’ll take a bus back to Riverside from Coopersburg.”