Just as they had about made up their minds that it was time to go home, Betty, who had exclaimed more than once over the beauty of some of the young gypsy girls, their beauty being emphasized by the picturesque clothes they wore, stepped back to look into a tent they had passed a moment before.
Allen saw his opportunity and was quick to improve it.
"You must be careful how you trot about alone here, Betty. You know——" he began, when she interrupted him.
"Oh, it is!" she said. "It is!"
"What?" asked Allen, mystified.
She drew him back into the shadows before she answered. "I wasn't sure, but now I know," she said. "That's the very old woman who wanted to tell our fortunes at Grace's this afternoon."
"Well, what of it?" he inquired, with an attempt to be reassuring. "She won't hurt you—not while I'm around."
"Oh, but I don't like her looks," and the girl shivered slightly.
"You need your coat, Betty," said Allen. "Where is it?"
"Jack—Mr. Sanford has it. I'll get it."