Part 25 (1/2)

”You have not seen Mr. Martinez, Zerlina?” asked Bab, recalling how he had stolen away in the woods when the Gypsy danced for them.

Zerlina bowed coldly, and Jose took off his cavalier hat; but neither said a word, and Bab felt somewhat embarra.s.sed at the silence.

”Wait a moment, Zerlina, and I will ask the major about the fortunes,”

she said, stepping through the French window. Just as she parted the curtain, she turned to say something to Jose, and saw Zerlina quickly hand him a note. Bab's face flushed angrily.

”This business ought to be stopped,” she said to herself. ”We'll all be slain in our beds some fine night. Why can't Jose be frank? The entire band of Gypsies might be a lot of robbers, for all we know.”

The revelers inside were all interested to know that Granny Ann had come at last to tell fortunes, and Zerlina was dispatched at once to bring her grandmother back. When the old woman pa.s.sed through the room on her way to the library, where the fortunes were to be told, she took a rapid survey of everybody there. She examined the girls and boys in their masquerade costumes, looked curiously at Jimmie's bandaged countenance, and finally her eyes rested on Jose leaning on a balcony rail outside.

While the fortunes were being told, there was a concert in the drawing room. Grace sang in her high, sweet soprano voice, followed by another of Zerlina's Gypsy songs. Then Jose was induced to sing a beautiful Spanish love song, and finally Jimmie gave a comic version of ”The Old Homestead” in which he himself acted every part.

After the fortunes were told Granny Ann sent word that there was one person she had not seen, and go she would not until she had seen him.

”Who has not yet been in?” demanded the major.

There was no reply.

”Jose, you have not seen her, have you?” asked Mollie.

”No,” replied Jose; ”I do not wish to go.”

Word was sent in to Granny Ann, who sent a message back that she insisted on seeing the young man.

”Oh, go ahead, Jose,” urged Stephen. ”It's only for a few minutes, and we want to have another dance before bedtime.”

Jose bowed and disappeared from the room. Soon after Mollie touched Bab on the arm.

”Bab,” she whispered, ”come out on the porch. I have something to tell you.”

The two girls stole out onto the moonlit piazza, while Mollie continued in a low voice: ”I know I should not have done it, but I followed Jose into the library, by the dining-room door, and hid behind a curtain. I was curious to see what Granny Ann would do. He had hardly got into the room before she commenced talking in a loud voice. She spoke in a foreign language, but she seemed terribly angry, and shook her fist in his face. He was quite gentle with her, and just stood there, pale and quiet. I felt so sorry for him. Once I thought she would strike him, but he never flinched or dodged. What do you suppose it means, Bab, dear?”

”I don't know, Mollie,” replied Barbara, ”There is some mystery about Jose. Something happened to-day that put him in a very unfortunate light, but I'd rather not tell you until to-morrow. Don't dance with him any more to-night, but be kind to him, little sister,” Bab added, ”for I do feel sorry for him.”

CHAPTER XIX-A RECOGNITION

The masqueraders had separated for the night; Bab, however, had asked to speak with the major before he went to his room. For half an hour she was closeted with him in his library. The time had arrived to tell him everything she knew about Jose.

The major had listened to her attentively. He had felt reluctance to believe anything against a guest, just on a mere chance resemblance, but certainly the circle was closing in around Jose.

”Do you think we had better do anything about it to-night?” he asked the girl, almost childishly. He felt obliged to ask advice in this very difficult situation, and who could give any better counsel than this fine, young woman, who had been able to keep a secret, and who was so wholesome and sweet with all her reserve?

”I don't see what you could do, Major, in case he admitted he was guilty. You couldn't arrest him very well to-night, unless you wanted to bind his arms and feet and take him to the nearest town. I don't believe he has any idea of running away, because he doesn't know we suspect him.

At least he only vaguely knows it.”

”And, after all,” said the kindly old major, ”it's a pity to rout him out of his comfortable bed to-night. We will give the poor fellow another good night's rest, and take one ourselves, too. Shall we not, little woman?”

”Yes, indeed, Major,” agreed Barbara, looking into his kindly, troubled eyes with respect and admiration. ”And who knows? Maybe, in the morning, he can explain everything.”