Part 16 (1/2)

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--”