twice the value of the basket that she bought, and she continued her apology. “I’m very sorry that you had any trouble; but it was a wedding.”
“Yes, yes, a wedding. I tole you a wedding.”
“Well, it does seem as if your prophecy had come true,” and Brenda paused for a moment, evidently struck by another thought.
“Can you tell about people who take money,—bad men, you know?”
The gypsy looked at her sharply, and Julia interposed,—
“I would n’t say anything about it. She could n’t possibly help you.”
But Brenda was not to be stopped, although she did not press the woman to forecast the future.
“Miguel Silva?” she continued; “do you know him?”
The gypsy woman looked at Brenda without a change of expression, as if to say,—
“Why do you wish to know?”
“I met him near your camp,” continued Brenda. “He helped me—”
This seemed to reassure the gypsy.
“Oh, yes, I know Miguel Silva. He trade for a horse with Jo. He paid pretty good, too.”
“Do you hear that?” cried Brenda, turning to Julia. Then she continued her questioning. But the woman now declined to answer. Evidently her suspicion was aroused, and to each question she answered simply, “I dunno.”
Finally Brenda turned impatiently away.
