Costello, the junkman, could not be further ignored, for at this point he began another excitable harangue. The Queen Alma bracelet, "Beeg Jeem," his own sorrows, and the fact that he saw no reason why Agnes should not immediately give up to him the silver bracelet, were all mixed up together in a clamor that became almost deafening.

"Oh, what shall I do? What _shall_ I do?" exclaimed the Corner House girl.

But Neale O'Neil was quite level-headed. Like Agnes, at first he had for a little while been swept off his feet by the swarthy man's vehemence. He regained his balance now.

"We're not going to do anything. We won't even show him the bracelet,"

said the boy firmly.

"But it is mine! It is the heirloom of the Costello! I, myself, tell you so," declared the junkman, beating his breast now instead of the newspaper.

"All right. I believe you. Don't yell so about it," said Neale, but quite calmly. "That does not alter the fact that we cannot give the bracelet up. That is, Miss Kenway cannot."

"But she say here--in the paper--"

"Oh, stop it!" exclaimed the exasperated boy. "It doesn't say in that paper that she will hand the thing out to anybody who comes and asks for it. If this other fellow you have been talking about should come here, do you suppose we would give it up to him, just on his say so?"

"No, no! It is not his. It never should have been in the possession of his family, sir. I a.s.sure you _I_ am the Costello to whose ancestors the great Queen Alma of our tribe delivered the bracelet."

"All right. Let it go at that," answered Neale. "All the more reason why we must be careful who gets it now. If it is honestly your bracelet you will get it, Mr. Costello. But you will have to see Miss Kenway's guardian and let him decide."

"Her--what you call it--does he have the bracelet?" cried the man.

"He will have it. You go there to-morrow. I will give you his address.

To-morrow he will talk to you. He is not in his office to-day. He is a lawyer."

"Oh, la, la! The law! I no like the law," declared Costello.

"No, I presume you Gypsies don't," muttered Neale, pulling out an envelope and the stub of a pencil with which to write the address of Mr. Howbridge's office. "There it is. Now, that is the best we can do for you. Only, n.o.body shall be given the bracelet until you have talked with Mr. Howbridge."

"But, I no like! The honest Kenway say here, in the paper--"

As he began to tap upon the newspaper again Neale, who was a st.u.r.dy youth, crowded him out upon the veranda of the old Corner House.

"Now, go!" advised Neale, when he heard the click of the door latch behind him. "You'll make nothing by lingering here and talking.

There's your horse starting off by himself. Better get him."

This roused the junk dealer's attention. The horse was tired of standing and was half a block away. Costello uttered an excited yelp and darted after his junk wagon.

Agnes let Neale inside the house again. She was much relieved.

"There! isn't this a mess?" she said. "I am glad you thought of Mr.

Howbridge. But I _do_ wish Ruth had been at home. She would have known just what to say to that funny little man."

"Humph! Maybe it would have been a good idea if she had been here,"

admitted Neale slowly. "Ruth is awfully bossy, but things do go about right when she is on the job."

"We'll have to see Mr. Howbridge--"

"But that can wait until to-morrow morning," Neale declared. "We can't do so this afternoon in any case. I happen to know he is out of town.

And we have promised Mr. Pinkney to take him on a hunt for Sammy."

"All right. It is almost noon. You'd better go and wash your face, Neale," and she began to giggle at him.

"Don't I know that? I came in here just to remind you to begin to prink before dinner or you'd never be ready."

She was already halfway up the stairs and she leaned over the bal.u.s.trade to make a gamin's face at him.

"Just you tend to your own apple cart, Neale O'Neil!" she told him. "I will be ready as soon as you are."

At dinner, which was eaten in the middle of the day at this time of year at the old Corner House, Agnes appeared ready all but her hat for the car.

"Oh, Aggie! can we go too?" cried Dot. "We want to ride in the automobile, don't we, Tess?"

"We maybe want to go riding," confessed the other sister slowly. "But I guess we can't, Dot. You forget that Margie and Holly Pease are coming over at three o'clock. They haven't seen the fretted silver bracelet."

"That reminds me," said Agnes firmly. "You must not take that bracelet out of the house. Understand? Not at all."

"Why, Aggie!" murmured Tess, while Dot grew quite red with indignation.

"If you wish to play with it indoors, all right," Agnes said. "Whose turn to have it, is it to-day?"

"Mine," admitted Tess.

"Then I hold you responsible. Not out of the house. We have got to get Mr. Howbridge's advice about it, in any case."

"Ruth didn't say we couldn't wear the bracelet out-of-doors," declared Dot, pouting.

"I am in Ruth's place," responded the older sister promptly. "Now, remember! You might lose it anyway. And _then_ what would we do if the owner really comes for it?"

"But they won't!" cried Dot, confidently. "Those Gypsy ladies gave it to us for keeps. I am sure."

"You certainly would not wish to keep the bracelet if the person the Gypsies stole it from came here to get it?" said Agnes sternly.

"Oh--oo! No-o," murmured Dot.

"Of course we would not, Sister," Tess declared briskly. "If we knew just where their camp is we would take it to them anyway. Of course we would, Dot!"

"Oh, of course," agreed Dot, but very faintly.

"You children are so seldom observant," went on Agnes in her most grown-up manner. "You should have looked into that basket when you bought it of the Gypsies. Then you would have seen the bracelet before the women got away. You are almost _never_ observant."

"Why, Aggie!" Tess exclaimed, rather hurt by the accusation of her older sister. "That is what your Mr. Marks said when he came into our grade at school just before the end of term last June."

Mr. Curtis G. Marks was the princ.i.p.al of the High School which Agnes attended.

"What was Mr. Marks doing over in your room, Tess?" Agnes asked curiously.

"Visiting. Our teacher asked him to 'take the cla.s.s.' You know, visiting teachers always _are_ so nosey," added Tess with more frankness than good taste.