ZERO, THE SOOTHSAYER
Mrs. Ogilvie looked more Egyptian than ever to-day. She always dressed for her parts; and as a believer in the Unseen, she felt it right, in honour of the sibyl, to wear her hair very low, with some green pins in it, long earrings, and a flowing gown, with Japanese sleeves.
"Vera, you're almost in fancy dress," said Felicity, as she arrived. "It's very becoming; but why?"
"Am I, dear? Well, it's as a sort of compliment to this wonderful girl. I've been draping the little boudoir with gold embroideries—and burning joss-sticks, too (though they give me a headache). I thought it would bring out her gift—make her feel more at home, you know."
"Good gracious, is she an Algerian or an Indian or anything?"
"Oh dear no, darling. Of course not. She's a Highlander, that's all. It runs in her family. To know things that haven't happened, I mean."
"But that will happen?"
"I hope so, I'm sure. She's in there," said Vera, pointing to a beaded curtain, that concealed the small drawing-room. "She's gazing into the crystal for Bob Henderson. You shall go next, darling."
"I should have imagined Captain Henderson the very last person in the world to dabble in the occult, as they call it in the newspapers. I should have thought he would laugh at superstition."
"Oh, so he does, dear, but he wants to know what's going to win the Derby."