“Oh, come back from dreamland, and learn what’s going on. Cameron knows of a wonderful hermit, who lives in a shack in the woods and tells fortunes. Do you want to snatch the veil from the hidden future, and learn your fate?”
“Yes, indeed; I just love fortune tellers! Where is he, Kit?”
“Off in the woods, in a tumble-down old shanty. But he’s the real thing in seers! I was out for an early morning prowl, and I discovered him. Bobbink, that’s my pet bellhop, says he’s greatly patronised by the populace, but though he gets lots of coin, he won’t move into better quarters or disport himself more as a man of means.”
“Well, I want to go to see him,” Patty declared. “Will you go, Billee?”
“Can’t go this afternoon, Patty; I’m sorry, but I have another engagement.”
“So have I,” said Daisy, looking a little conscious. “Let’s leave Mr. Fortune Teller till tomorrow morning.”
All agreed to this, and after luncheon was over, they proceeded to plan various sports.
“Tennis, Patty?” asked Chick.
“No; too poky.” And Patty gave a restless gesture, most unusual with her, and only indulged in when she was bothered about some trifle. She wanted to get a moment alone with Farnsworth and tell him about Phil. She knew from the way Little Billee looked at her, or, rather, didn’t look at her, that he was hurt or offended, or both.
“Golf then?” Chick went on.