“Hear the lass!” exclaimed the troubled housekeeper. “Who ever heard the like? Why should Gypsies give us any trouble? Is it that bit bracelet the bairns play wi’? Then throw it out and let the Gypsies have it.”
“But that would not be right, would it, Mrs. McCall?” demanded the troubled girl. “If—if the bracelet belongs to them—”
“Hech! To this junkman?”
“He claims it,” confessed Agnes.
“Tut, tut! What is going on here that I do not know about?” demanded the Scotch woman with deeper interest.
She closed the window, drew the shade again, and returned to her seat. She stared at Agnes rather sternly over her glasses.
“Come now, my lass,” said the housekeeper, “what has been going on so slyly here? I never heard of any Costello, junkman or not. Who is he? What does he want, peering in at a body’s windows at night?”
Agnes told the whole story then—and managed to tell it clearly enough for the practical woman to gain a very good idea of the whole matter.
“Of course,” was her comment, grimly said, “you and that Neale could not let well enough alone. You never can. If you had not advertised the bit bracelet, this junkman would not have troubled you.”
“But we thought it ought to be advertised,” murmured Agnes in defense.