Of course they had no moral right to do that, and the housekeeper’s irritable suggestion was not to be thought of for a serious moment. Yet Agnes would have been glad to get rid of the responsibility connected with possession of Queen Alma’s ornament.
“If it is that Costello heirloom!” she said. “Maybe after all it belongs to Miss Ann Titus’s friend, Sarah Whatshername. Goodness! I wonder how many other people will come to claim the old thing. I do wish Ruth would return.”
“Just so you could hand the responsibility over to her,” accused Neale.
“M-mm. Well?”
“We ought to hunt up those Gypsies—‘Beeg Jeem’ and his crowd—and get their side of the story,” declared Neale.
“No! I will not!” cried Agnes. “I have met all the Gypsies I ever want to meet.”
But within the hour she met another. She was in the kitchen, and Linda and Mrs. McCall were both in the front of the house, cleaning. There came a timid-sounding rap on the door. Agnes unthinkingly threw it open.
A slender girl stood there—a girl younger than Agnes herself. This stranger was very ragged, not at all clean looking, and very brown. She had flashing white teeth and flashing black eyes.
Agnes actually started back when she saw her and suppressed a scream. For she instantly knew the stranger was one of the Gypsy tribe. That she seemed to be alone was the only thing that kept Agnes from slamming the door again right in the girl’s face.
“Will the kind lady give me something to eat?” whined the beggar. “I am hungry. I eat nothing all the day.”