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?"
She started forward, but he laid a restraining hand on her arm. "Betty, Betty," he whispered. "You're not going to keep this up, are you?"
"What do you mean?" she questioned, with an attempt at dignity that was not a very great success.
"You know as well as I do," he answered. "It wasn't my fault. Amy introduced her and I--well, I had to be decent. Betty, don't you know me well enough----"
"Where have you people been anyway?" It was Amy's voice. "We've been looking all over for you."
"Right here, every minute," said Allen cheerily, and the little party started on again. Not, however, before Mollie and Grace had exchanged very significant glances.
The young people turned for a last look at the gypsy rendezvous before a bend in the road shut it from view.
"I've had an awfully good time," said Grace, then added, irrelevantly: "I only hope those gypsies don't steal anything."
"That's a good hope," whispered Allen in Betty's ear. "They are dabsters when it comes to getting away with other people's property."
The door bell rang out its noisy summons.
Betty forestalled the maid on her way to the portal with a merry: "I'll go, Mary. It's probably one of the girls."
It was not one of the girls only, but all three of them, and seemingly in the wildest excitement.
"Oh, Betty, Betty!" Mollie cried, not even stopping to say "hello." "Have you heard the news--have you?"
"No, it's so early----" began Betty, but Grace interrupted her.
"But it isn't half as bad as what happened to us," she said, sinking into a porch chair and fanning herself violently, being overcome either by the heat or her emotions--possibly both. "Why! dad's running around the house like a mad man this morning, swearing all sorts of vengeance on the thief, whoever he or she is--I suppose it must be a he, though, because women don't steal----"