“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.”