THE GYPSY'S WARNING
It was at Betty's party. And as Mr. Rand had told our friends, Betty
was a wonderful girl--for being happy and making others happy.
Now, here it was less than a year from the time of her dear mother's
death, and on her own birthday, of course, she would not have a party,
but when Daddy came in with his arms full of company and bundles, as
Betty put it, of course she turned right in and had an impromptu
party--just to make Daddy happy.
It was an easy matter to gather in a few of the nearby cottagers, of
whom there were many very pleasant samples, and so, when the evening
following the midnight tow arrived, the party from Chelton found
themselves rested and ready for the festivities. As usual, Walter was
devoted to Betty. Jack liked her, Ed admired her, but Walter claimed
her--that was his way. She was a pretty girl of rather an unusual
type, accounted for, her father declared, by the fact that her mother
was an Irish beauty, and gave to Betty that wonderful golden-red hair,
the hazel eyes and the indescribable complexion that is said to come
from generations of buttermilk.
And withal she was such a little flirt! How she did cling to Walter,
make eyes at Ed and defy Jack, giving to each the peculiar attention
that his special case most needed.
Belle and Bess found it necessary to take up with some very pleasant
chaps from a nearby hotel, while Cora and Hazel made themselves
agreeable with two friends of Mr. Rand's--boys from New York, who had
many mutual acquaintances with Chelton folks and, therefore, could talk
of other things than gears and gasoline.
Mr. Rand was on the side porch, and when the drawing-room conversation
waited for the next remark, his voice might be heard in a very animated
discussion. Cora sat near a French window, and she heard:
"But the hat! How did his particular hat get there?"
The answer of his friend was not audible.
"I tell you," went on the gentleman, "this thing has got to be watched.
I don't like it!"
"Oh, Coral" chirped Belle. "Do sing the 'Gypsy's Warning.' We haven't
heard it since the night----"
"Walter fished up a chaperon," added Jack, with a laugh.
"The 'Gypsy's Warning'!" repeated Betty.
"It's a very old song," explained Cora, "but we had to revive
something, so we revived----"
"The gyp," finished Ed, getting up and fetching Cora's guitar from the
tete in the corner. "Do sing it, Cora. This is such a gypsy land out
here."
"Are there?" asked Bess, in sudden alarm.
"There _are_," said Ed mockingly. "There are gypsy land out here!"
"Oh, you know perfectly well what I meant," and Bess pursed her lips
prettily.
"Course I do; if I didn't--land help me--I would need a map and a
horoscope in my pocket every single minute."
"Come on, Cora, sing," pleaded Hazel. "Let them hear about our
Warning."
"I'm afraid it's too late," objected Cora with a sly look at Betty and
Walter. "We should have sent the warning on ahead of us."
She stood up to take the instrument from Ed's hands. She was near the
French window again.
"I tell you," she heard Mr. Rand say, "these gypsy fellows will stoop
to anything. And as for revenge--they say once a gypsy always a gypsy.
Which means they will stick by each other----"
"Come on, Cora. We want the song. I remember my mother used to sing
the 'Gypsy's Warning,' and she brought it right down to date--we never
went near a camp," said Walter.
The threat of the old gypsy woman rang in Cora's ears. She could see
her raise that brown finger and hear her say: "If you harm Salvo, harm
shall be upon your head." Cora had testified against Salvo. A hat
known to belong to a member of the tribe was later found at midnight
under Cora's car, miles from the town where the robbery had been
committed. Were they following her?
"Oh, really, I can't sing to-night," she protested rather lamely. "I
have a cold."
The voices on the porch had ceased. Betty was claiming her father for
some game. The evening had not been a great success.
"And to-morrow," faltered Walter, "we pass on. I wish we had decided
to stay in the Berkshires, but of course the girls must make the White
Mountains," and he fell back in his chair as if overwhelmed. "I fancy
Bess is ambitious to climb Mount Washington."
"I possibly could--as well as the others," and Bess flushed at the
mention of anything in the flesh-reducing line. "I have always been a
pretty fair climber."
"Yes, that's right," called Jack. "I remember one time Bess climbed in
the window at school. A lemon pie had been locked up inadvertently."
"But you ought to see more of Lenox," spoke Betty. "I do wish you
would stay--for a few days at least."
"So do I," said Walter with flagrant honesty.
"But the season wanes," remarked Cora, "and we must keep to our
itinerary. Now that my machine has been overhauled I anticipate a
royal run. Betty, can't you come with us? Mr. Rand says you have been
here all summer----"
"And too much is enough," declared the ensnared Walter. "Betty, if you
would come we might mount Mount Washington."
"What do you say, papa?"
"Why, go, of course; it would be the very thing for you. And then,
don't you see, I shouldn't have to give up my job as chaperon," and he
clapped his hands on his knees and chuckled with a relish that all
enjoyed.
Mr. Rand decided that he would go and take his gorgeous car, and the
pretty, bright little Irish Betty! Why, it would be like starting all
over again!
Hazel was fingering Cora's guitar. The chords of the "Gypsy's Warning"
just floated through the room. Walter hummed, Jack almost whistled, Ed
looked the part, but Cora!
Cora, brave, beautiful and capable--Cora jumped up and seemed to find
some flowers in the vases absolutely absorbing. Cora did not take any
part in rendering even the subdued "Gypsy's Warning."