one thing, however, that may come true. She said that within six months, I was likely to have a handsome present from a tall, sandy-haired man.
“As I calculate that will bring me near Christmas, and as the description fits papa, I shall hope that I am to have the ring that he has promised me. So you see that fortune-tellers are not all frauds.”
“Hush,” whispered Brenda, “or she ’ll hear you.”
The gypsy was now standing close to them. “I could come to the young ladies’ house some time,” she said, “and if they have any dresses they can’t wear any more, I should be glad to buy them,—and I could tell more fortunes; there is more to be told, much more,” she added.
“No, thank you,” said Nora; “I don’t care to know any more about the future, and I have n’t any clothes to sell. Come, Brenda.”
But Brenda still lingered.
“Could we see the inside of the tent? Have you a gypsy kettle there?”
“No, no,” said the old woman, “no kettle, a cook-stove like other peoples. You can come.” She spoke in a rather ungracious tone, and then turning to the young girl gave some kind of a command in a strange language,—“gibberish” Brenda called it, and indeed it was little better. But the girl understood, and, hastening to the tent, evidently told its occupant that they were coming. For soon a tall, thin woman stood in the opening, raising her hand as if in welcome, and the fortune-teller told the two girls to follow her to the tent.
