“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.