Belle felt ashamed of herself for the thought. If there was an honest person in the world, it was Morgan. She had heard her father talk of circumstantial evidence, and how easy it was to draw wrong conclusions. She was puzzled. One thing was certain, she had seen the ring in his hand.
"Now, if he were really a magician, I might think he had broken the spell on the ring we found in the Gilpin house," she said to herself.
She must go back and pay the bill; for if she did not, her mother would have to know the reason, and Belle was not sure it would be wise to tell her about the discovery. Mrs. Parton acknowledged frankly she couldn't keep a secret, and Belle was wise enough to see it wouldn't do to spread the news abroad.
"I wish Rosalind was here," she thought.
When at length she made up her mind to go back, the magician was at work and greeted her just as usual. Belle wondered if she had not dreamed it after all. While he went into the next room to make change and receipt the bill, she looked for the ring she and Rosalind had hung on a nail beside the door. It was gone. Had any one ever known such a perplexing state of affairs?
The magician must have wondered what made the usually merry Belle so grave, for he asked if she was well as he gave her the bill.
As she walked slowly homeward, she noticed a large, dignified gentleman coming toward her. He did not belong to Friendship, she knew, and she wondered a little who he might be. He looked down on her benevolently through his spectacles as he passed, and for a moment seemed about to speak. Belle quickly forgot him, however, for the ring occupied her thoughts to the exclusion of everything else. Even the story so fascinating an hour ago, had lost its charm.
"Does your head ache?" her mother asked, seeing her sitting on the doorstep, her chin in her hand, her book unopened beside her.
"No, mother; I am just thinking," was Belle's reply.
She was trying to decide whom to tell. "I wish father was at home," she said to herself.