Agnes crept to the other door and put her ear to the panel. At first she heard nothing. Then came a murmur, as of voices in low conversation. Were the circus people talking? Had Barnabetta really gained possession of the book, and were she and her father examining it?
Then Agnes suddenly fell to giggling; for what she actually heard was Mr. Asa Scruggs’ rhythmic snoring.
“She surely isn’t there,” decided Agnes, creeping away down the hall again. “He’s sound asleep. If Barnabetta’s up to any mischief—if she’s taken that album—she can’t be in there with it.”
It was immediately following this decision that Agnes, returning downstairs by the front way, heard voices in the dining room. She looked in to see Barnabetta sitting with Tess and Dot before the fire, telling the little girls stories of circus life.
Agnes dodged out of there. She had seen enough, she thought, to convince any one that the circus girl was not guilty.
“Where’d you go to?” demanded Ruth, when her sister returned to the sitting room.
“I went to see where that Barnabetta Scruggs was,” confessed Agnes.
“Oh, my! I did not think of them.” Ruth said.
“Well, she’s all right. She’s in the dining room telling Tess and Dot stories. It certainly could not be Barnabetta. Why! we’d have heard her go through the hall and out upon the porch.”
“Why! She doesn’t know anything about the album,” retorted Ruth. “I tell you it’s been stolen by somebody who followed Neale here to the house.”