The girls were stunned by this last calamity. They could think of one
solution and one only, and that was--the gypsies.
As Betty took leave of the girls at her own door that noon, after vainly
urging them to stay to lunch--they were too impatient to get home and
spread the news to stop for anything, even lunch at Betty's--she heard
the jangle of the telephone.
"Sorry you won't come in," she called. "I'll see you later, anyway!" and
she flew upstairs to answer the insistent summons.
"Hello! . . . Oh, that you, Allen? . . . Yes, I've just come home from
Mrs. Billette's. . . . She has lost a silver tea service and some other
things. . . . What's that? . . . Yes, stolen. . . . Gone! . . . Are you
sure? . . . Oh, now they will never get their things! . . . Yes, come
over to-morrow and we can talk things over. . . . Don't be silly! . . .
Yes, come early. . . . Good-bye."
As she hung up the receiver mechanically, Betty's gaze traveled out of
the window and over the smooth, green lawn to the far-distant horizon.
"Gone!" she murmured. "The gypsies are gone! Oh, I wonder where they
went to?"
CHAPTER VI
A WONDERFUL OUTING
"Hello, Betty, that you? Yes, this is Mollie, of course.
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