Mr. Pinkney brought home the story of Sammy’s mistake and he and his wife laughed over it. But when Mrs. Pinkney called upstairs for the boy to come down to a late supper she got only a muffled response that he “didn’t want no supper.”
“He must be sick,” she observed to her husband, somewhat anxiously.
“He’s sick of the mess he’s made – that’s all,” declared Mr. Pinkney cheerfully. “Let him alone. He’ll come around all right in the morning.”
Meanwhile at the Corner House the Kenway sisters had something more important (at least, as they thought) to talk about than Sammy Pinkney and his errors of judgment. What Dot had begun to call the “fretful silver bracelet” was a very live topic.
The local jeweler had pronounced the bracelet of considerable value because of its workmanship. It did not seem possible that the Gypsy women could have dropped the bracelet into the basket they had sold the smaller Corner House girls and then forgotten all about it.
“It is not reasonable,” Ruth Kenway declared firmly, “that it could just be a mistake. That basket is worth two dollars at least; and they sold it to the children for forty-five cents. It is mysterious.”
“They seemed to like Tess and me a whole lot,” Dot said complacently. “That is why they gave it to us so cheap.”
“And that is the very reason I am worried,” Ruth added.
“Why don’t you report it to the police?” croaked Aunt Sarah Maltby. “Maybe they’ll try to rob the house.”
“O-oh,” gasped Dot, round-eyed.
“Who? The police?” giggled Agnes in Ruth’s ear.
“Maybe we ought to look again for those Gypsy ladies,” Tess said. “But the bracelet is awful pretty.”
“I tell you! Let’s ask June Wildwood. She knows all about Gypsies,” cried Agnes. “She used to travel with them. Don’t you remember, Ruth? They called her Queen Zaliska, and she made believe tell fortunes. Of course, not being a real Gypsy she could not tell them very well.”
“Crickey!” ejaculated Neale O’Neil, who was present. “You don’t believe in that stuff, do you, Aggie?”
“I don’t know whether I do or not. But it’s awfully thrilling to think of learning ahead what is going to happen.”
“Huh!” snorted her boy friend. “Like the weather man, eh? But he has some scientific data to go on.”
“Probably the Gypsy fortune tellers have reduced their business to a science, too,” Ruth calmly said.
“Anyhow,” laughed Neale, “Queen Zaliska now works in Byburg’s candy store. Some queen, I’ll tell the world!”
“Neale!” admonished Ruth. “Such slang!”
“Come on, Neale,” said the excited Agnes. “Let you and me go down to Byburg’s and ask her about the bracelet.”
“I really don’t see how June can tell us anything,” observed Ruth slowly.
“Anyway,” Agnes briskly said, putting on her hat, “we need some candy. Come on, Neale.”
The Wildwoods were Southerners who had not lived long in Milton. Their story is told in “The Corner House Girls Under Canvas.” The Kenways were very well acquainted with Juniper Wildwood and her sister, Rosa. Agnes felt privileged to question June about her life with the Gypsies.
“I saw Big Jim in town the other day,” confessed the girl behind the candy counter the moment Agnes broached the subject. “I am awfully afraid of him. I ran all the way home. And I told Mr. Budd, the policeman on this beat, and I think Mr. Budd warned Big Jim to get out of town. There is some talk about getting a law through the Legislature putting a heavy tax on each Gypsy family that does not keep moving. That will drive them away from Milton quicker than anything else. And that Big Jim is a bad, bad man. Why! he’s been in jail for stealing.”
“Oh, my! He’s a regular convict, then,” gasped Agnes, much impressed.
“Pshaw!” said Neale. “They don’t call a man a convict unless he has been sent to the State prison, or to the Federal penitentiary. But that Big Jim looked to be tough enough, when we saw him down at Pleasant Cove, to belong in prison for life. Remember him, Aggie?”
“The children did not say anything about a Gypsy man,” observed his friend. “There were two Gypsy women.”
She went on to tell June Wildwood all about the basket purchase and the finding of the silver bracelet. The older girl shook her head solemnly as she said:
“I don’t understand it at all. Gypsies are always shrewd bargainers. They never sell things for less than they cost.”
“But they made that basket,” Agnes urged. “Perhaps it didn’t cost them so much as Ruth thinks.”
June smiled in a superior way. “Oh, no, they didn’t make it. They don’t waste their time nowadays making baskets when they can buy them from the factories so much cheaper and better. Oh, no!”
“Crackey!” exclaimed Neale. “Then they are fakers, are they?”
“That bracelet is no fake,” declared Agnes.
“That is what puzzles me most,” said June. “Gypsies are very tricky. At least, all I ever knew. And if those two women you speak of belonged to Big Jim’s tribe, I would not trust them at all.”
“But it seems they have done nothing at all bad in this case,” Agnes observed.
“Tess and Dot are sure ahead of the game, so far,” chuckled Neale in agreement.
“Just the same,” said June Wildwood, “I would not be careless. Don’t let the children talk to the Gypsies if they come back for the bracelet. Be sure to have some older person see the women and find out what they want. Oh, they are very sly.”
June had then to attend to other customers, and Agnes and Neale walked home. On the way they decided that there was no use in scaring the little ones about the Gypsies.
“I don’t believe in bugaboos,” Agnes declared. “We’ll just tell Ruth.”
This she proceeded to do. But perhaps she did not repeat June Wildwood’s warning against the Gypsy band with sufficient emphasis to impress Ruth’s mind. Or just about this time the older Corner House girl had something of much graver import to trouble her thought.
By special delivery, on this evening just before they retired, arrived an almost incoherent letter from Cecile Shepard, part of which Ruth read aloud to Agnes:
“… and just as Aunt Lorina is only beginning to get better! I feel as though this family is fated to have trouble this year. Luke was doing so well at the hotel and the proprietor liked him. It isn’t his fault that that outside stairway was untrustworthy and fell with him. The doctor says it is only a strained back and a broken wrist. But Luke is in bed. I am going by to-morrow’s train to see for myself. I don’t dare tell Aunt Lorina – nor even Neighbor. Neighbor – Mr. Northrup – is not well himself, and he would only worry about Luke if he knew… Now, don’t you worry, and I will send you word
