"The last gypsies I ever saw," she said merrily, "were encamped along the road through Beekman's Woods, as you approach Tarrytown-on-Hudson from the north. The gypsy group was picturesque, but the individuals looked villainous. I hope I do not strongly resemble them," she said still laughing; then added, "They wanted to tell our fortunes."
"Did you let them tell yours?"
"Yes, just for fun."
"What did they tell you?"
"Oh, just foolishness."
"Come, tell me just for fun."
"Well,"—here she blushed—"the old gypsy told me that an Englishman would woo me, that I'd not know my own mind, and that I would reject him."
"Interesting! Go on."
"That something dreadful would happen to the suitor; that I'd help take care of him, and after that, all was cloudland."
"Really, this grows more interesting. The fortune teller realized how hard-hearted you were. Didn't she ask you to join their caravan? You'd make an ideal gypsy princess."