“Won’t you let us see your dagger, Zerlina?” asked Bab.
“Oh, yes, do!” begged Mollie. “It will be the third dagger we have seen this week; but this is the first chance we have had to take a good look at any of them.”
Zerlina looked at them darkly. Her lips drew themselves together in a stubborn line.
“I cannot, now,” she said. “Perhaps, another time. Good-bye.” She slipped off into the woods as quietly as one of the spirits which were said to haunt the place.
“Gypsies are so tiresome,” exclaimed Miss Sallie. “Why shouldn’t she show her dagger, I’d like to know? And who cares whether she does or not, anyhow?”
“If you had ever read any books on Gypsies, Sallie,” replied the major, “you would know that their lives are full of things they must keep secret if they want to keep out of jail. However, these Gypsies seem peaceable enough,” he added, his kindly spirit never liking to condemn anything until it was necessary. “But what a beautiful girl she is!” he continued. “If she were properly dressed she would be as noble and elegant looking as”—he paused for a comparison—“as our own young ladies here. I wonder if her grandmother would ever consent to her being educated and taught singing?”
“Now, Major,” cried the impetuous Ruth, “keep on your own preserves! I asked her first, and I’m just dying to do it. I know papa would let me, and wouldn’t it be a beautiful thing to launch a great singer upon the public?”
“It certainly would, my dear,” replied the major, “and I promise not to meddle, if you had first choice.”
“Why, where’s Mr. Martinez?” asked Mollie, as they climbed into the automobiles and she missed her companion of the ride over.
One of the boys gave a shrill whistle and the others began calling and shouting. Presently the answer came from up the stream. “I’m coming,” he called and José appeared. “I was only taking a little stroll.”