“No episodes are secrets to me,” declared the hermit. “Shall I tell further?”
“No, I guess that will be about all,” and Channing moved quickly away from the strange old man.
Bob Peyton declined to have his past exposed to the public gaze; and he said he didn’t care to know what the future held for him, he’d far rather be surprised at his life as it happened. So Bill Farnsworth was the next to test the wizard’s powers.
“Big man,” said the hermit, solemnly, as he scanned the broad palm Bill offered for inspection. “Big man, every way; body, heart, soul,—all.”
“Thanks,” said Farnsworth, “for the expansive if ambiguous compliment. Be a little more definite, please. What am I going to have for dinner today? Answer me that, and I’ll believe in your wizardry.”
“Big man is pleased to be sarcastic. The hermit does not waste his occult powers on foolish questions. In a few hours you will know what you will have for dinner. Why learn now?”
“Why, indeed? All right, old chap, tell me something worth while, then.”
“That will I, sir! I’ll tell you your fate in wedlock. You will yet wed a lovely lady, who, like your noble self, is of the Western birth. She is——”
“Drop it, man! Never mind what she is! Let me tell you what you are! Friends, behold Mr. Kit Cameron!” With a swift movement, Farnsworth drew off the old gloves from the hand that held his, and exposed the unmistakable slim white hands of the musician, Kit.
“Oh, you fraud!” cried Patty. “I half suspected it all the time!”