"Oh, Roberto! your hands are burned!" cried Ruth, darting to his side,
as the fire was quenched.

"Never you mind, little Missy----"

He halted, staring at her. Then his face flushed like fire and his eyes
dropped before her accusing gaze.

"You _can_ speak!" exclaimed the girl from the Red Mill. "You _can_!"

"He's gotten back his tongue!" cried Helen, in surprise. "Isn't that
wonderful?"

But Ruth was sure, by the Gypsy boy's shamefaced look, that there was
nothing wonderful about it at all. Roberto had been able to speak all
the time, but he did not wish to. Now, in his excitement, he had
betrayed the fact.

There was too much confusion just then for the matter to be discussed or
explained. The girls, seeing that the fire was out, scattered at once to
their rooms. Roberto left instantly by the window, and Ruth helped
Nettie and her roommates repair the damage as well as possible.

"I'll buy new curtains for the windows," said the "sugar king's"
daughter. "And I'm only glad nothing worse happened."

"The worst hasn't happened yet," giggled one of her roommates.

"What do you mean?"

"I saw Jennie Stone take a bag of pickles, some seed cakes, a citron
bun, and about half a pound of candy with her, when she flew. If she
absorbs all that to-night, she will be sick to-morrow, that's all!"

"Well," Ruth advised, "the best we can do won't hide the damage. Miss
Scrimp will find out about the fire, anyway. The best thing to do is to
make a clean breast of it, Nettie. I'm sorry the feast was a failure,
but we all know you did your best."

"I'm thankful it was no worse," returned the new girl. "And how brave
that Gypsy boy was, Ruth! I must thank him to-morrow."

"You leave him to me," said the girl of the Red Mill, grimly. "I want to
talk to Roberto myself."

When she got back to her excited roommates, she said little about the
wonderful recovery of the Gypsy boy's power of speech, until Mercy and
Ann were asleep. Then she said to Helen Cameron:

"I am going to telegraph to your father the first thing in the morning.
Roberto has been fooling us all. You can't tell me! I know he's been
able to talk all the time."

"You don't really think so, dear?" asked Helen.

"I do. He must have been conscious when we picked him up that time and
carried him to the carriage. And we mentioned his grandmother then and
the necklace. He's just as sharp as a knife, you know; he's been dumb
for a purpose. He did not want to b