“Well,” he chuckled, “if Sammy Pinkney has been carried off by the Gypsies, I sympathize with the Gypsies. I have a very vivid recollection of how much trouble Sammy can make—and without half trying.
“Now, children, give my note to Ruth. I am very sorry that Luke Shepard is ill. If he does not at once recover it may be well to bring him here to Milton. With his aunt only just recovering from her illness, it would be unwise to take the boy home.”
This he said more to himself than to the little girls. Because of their errand Tess and Dot could remain no longer. Ralph unhitched the pony and Tess drove away.
Around the very first corner they spied a dusty, rather battered touring-car just moving away. A big, dark man, with gold hoops in his ears, was driving it. There was a brilliantly dressed young woman in the tonneau, which was otherwise filled with boxes, baskets, a crate of fruit, and odd-shaped packages.
“Oh, Tess!” squealed Dot. “See there!”
“Oh, Dot!” rejoined her sister quite as excitedly. “That is the young Gypsy lady.”
“Oh-oo!” moaned Dot. “Have we got to give her back this fretful silver bracelet, Tessie?”
“We must try,” declared Tess firmly. “Ruth says so. Get up, Scalawag! Come on—hurry! We must catch them.”
The touring-car was going away from the pony-phaeton. Scalawag objected very much to going faster than his usual easy jog trot—unless it were to dance behind a band! He didn’t care to overtake the Gypsies’ motor-car.
And that car was going faster and faster. Tess stopped talking to the aggravating Scalawag and lifted up her voice to shout after the Gypsies.