The Girls of Central High on Track and Field Part 15

"Goodness me! Don't talk that way," interrupted Bobby. "It sounds just as though you were _owned_ by those Gypsies."

"Well, it is so," said Margit. "I am a Gypsy, too. My father was Belas Salgo. He was a musician--a wonderful musician, I believe. But he was a Gypsy. And all the Romany are kin, in some way. These Vareys are English Gypsies. They are kind enough to me. But I sure believe they hide from me _who I am_."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Eve, in surprise, although Bobby said not a word, but listened, eagerly.

"Only my father, you see, was a Gypsy. My mother----"

"Who was she?" asked Bobby, suddenly.

"I--I do not know. But she was not of those people--no. I am sure of that. She died when I was very little. I went about in many lands with my father. Then he died--very suddenly. Gypsy friends took me for a while, but they all said I belonged over here--in America. So they sent me here finally."

"Your mother was American, then, perhaps?" said Eve, shrewdly.

"That may be it. But these Vareys care nothing about my finding any relatives, save for one thing," said Margit, shaking her head, gloomily.

"What is that?" asked Bobby.

"If there is money. They believe my mother's people might be rich, or something of the kind. Then they would make them pay to get hold of me.

But suppose my mother's people do not want me?" slowly added the fugitive, sadly.

"You are quite sure this is the idea the Vareys have?" asked Bobby.

"Oh, yes. I heard them talking. Then I saw a--a card with a name written on it. They said, when they were looking at the card, '_She_ will know all about it. It is to her we must go.' So I know it was a woman's name."

"But how did you know--or suspect--that the name was that of any teacher in our school?" demanded Bobby, much to Eve's surprise.

"Ah! I learned much--here a word, there a word--by listening. I knew we were coming to Centerport for the purpose of getting speech with this woman whose name had been given them by the Hungarian people who brought me over here to America."

"But mercy on us!" cried Eve, in vast amazement. "What name is it?"

"She can't explain, for she cannot p.r.o.nounce it," said Bobby, instantly.

"Grace, or Jim Varey, never spoke the name aloud," said Margit, shaking her head. "But I know there are eighteen letters in the name. I counted them."

"And what teacher at Central High has eighteen letters in her name?"

murmured Eve, staring at Bobby.

Bobby took a pencil and wrote Miss Carrington's full name slowly on a piece of paper. She put it before the Gypsy girl.

"Is _that_ the name?" she asked. "When we spoke together before I had forgotten that Miss Carrington always spells her middle name out in full when she writes it at all."

"Miss Carrington!" gasped Eve, and, like Bobby, looked in the Gypsy girl's face questioningly.

CHAPTER XIV--ANOTHER FLITTING

"Is she nice?" asked Margit Salgo, eagerly, looking at the two Central High girls.

"Bless us!" muttered Bobby.

"She is a very well educated lady," said Eve, seriously. "I cannot tell whether you would like her. But--but do you really believe that she knows anything about you, Margit?"

"I do not know how much she knows of _me_," said the Gypsy girl, quickly. "But of my mother's people she knows. That I am sure. She--she holds the key, you would say, to the matter. It is through her, I am sure, that the Vareys expect to get money for me."

"To sell you to Miss Carrington?" gasped Eve.

"I do not know," replied the Gypsy girl, shaking her head. "But there is money to be made out of me, I know. And Queen Grace is--is very eager to get money."

"She's avaricious, is she?" said Eve, thoughtfully.

But Bobby Hargrew's mind was fixed upon another phase of the subject.

She took Margit's hand and asked, softly:

"What was your mother's name, dear?"

"Why--Madam Salgo."

"But her first name--her intimate name? What did your father call her?

Do you not remember?"

Margit waited a moment and then nodded. "I understand," she said. "It was 'Annake.'"

"Anne?"

"Ah, yes--in your harsh English tongue," returned Margit. "But why do you ask?"

Bobby was not willing to tell her that--then.

"At any rate, Margit," Eve told her, soothingly, "you will stay here with us just as long as you like." The girl had narrated her flight from Centerport when she saw the Gypsies in that town and knew they would hunt her down. "And we girls will help you find your friends."

"This Miss Carrington," spoke Margit, eagerly. "She knows. I must meet her. But do you not tell her anything about me. Let me meet and judge her for myself."

"Don't you think we'd better tell her something about you?" asked Eve, thoughtfully.

"Perhaps she might not want to know me," replied the Gypsy girl, anxiously. "Who am I? A Romany! All you other people look down on the Romany folk."

"Well, you are only part Gypsy," said the practical Evangeline. "And your father was an educated man--a great musician, you say."

"Surely!"

"Then I wouldn't cla.s.s myself with people who would chase me with a bloodhound, and only wanted to make money out of me," said Eve, sensibly.

"Ah! but all the Romany folk are not like, the Vareys," returned Margit.

Eve would not allow the girl to talk until late, for her experience in the swamp had been most exhausting. They bundled her into bed, and laid all her poor clothing--which Mrs. Sitz had washed and ironed with her own hands--on the chair beside her.