“Do have her, Mabel,” urged Alice. “That is if your mother won’t object.”
“I don’t believe she will. I’ll ask her. Tell the Gypsy girl to wait, Jennie,” and Mabel hurried up to the sitting room where Mrs. Anderson was reading.
“What a lark!” exclaimed Jack. “I wonder if she’s pretty?”
“All Gypsy girls are,” declared Phil, “some more than others.”
“I admire your taste,” mocked his sister.
“Mother says it’s all right,” announced Mabel, hurrying back. “We’ll have her in here, and you boys will have to behave.”
“Did we ever do otherwise?” demanded Phil, pretending indignation.
At the sight of the Gypsy, who followed the maid into the library, Natalie and Mabel exchanged glances. She was the same girl they had seen on the street that afternoon.
“Do you tell fortunes?” asked Mabel.
“Yes, lady,” and the Nomad made a bow. Then she looked calmly at the faces of those surrounding her. She seemed clean and neat, and even the half-admiring, if a little too bold glances of the boys, did not disconcert her. She was really pretty, a fact which Marie whispered to Natalie.