“But is it?” demanded Annie, eying the dark-hued gypsy woman, wistfully. “Oh, yes, of course it is, I know; but let her stay, Mr. Bradstone, just for a minute. Mary, lend me a shilling. I’ll be the first.”
Mary did not possess the coin; but Olivia found one, and Mary, with manifold gigglings, gave it to the gypsy.
The woman crossed the soft palm with it.
“Your fortune is easy to tell, miss,” she said. “You’ll marry the man of your choice and live happy.”
Annie snatched her hand away with a disappointed pout of her full lips.
“I don’t think that’s worth a shilling,” she said. “It’s a swindle. I ought to have fallen in love with the wrong man and died of consumption. Now, Mary.”
But Mary declined, positively.
“Well, you, then, squire,” said Annie, tugging at his arm.
“My fortune’s made or marred long ago,” he said, shaking his head as he tossed half a crown to the woman.
“Well, then, it’s Olivia’s turn,” said Annie. “Now, Olivia, you must, you must have your fortune told.”