"Then we may as well get along home," said Dicky.
"Not at all," said our new friend, for such he was now about to prove himself to be; "that lady does not want to tell fortunes to-day. She has a headache. Now, if you'll really stick to it, and tell the people's fortunes as well as you told mine, I'll stand you—let's see—two quid for the afternoon. Will that do? What?"
We said we should just jolly well think it would.
"I've got some Eau de Cologne in a medicine-bottle," Dora said; "my brother Noël has headaches sometimes, but I think he's going to be all right to-day. Do take it, it will do the lady's head good."
"I'll take care of her head," he said, laughing, but he took the bottle and said, "Thank you."
Then he told us to stay where we were while he made final arrangements, and we were left with palpitating breasts to look wildly through the Book of Fate, so as to have the things ready. But it turned out to be time thrown away, for when he came back he said to Alice—
"It'll have to be only you and your sister, please, for I see they've stuck up a card with 'Esmeralda, the gipsy Princess, reads the hand and foretells the future' on it. So you boys will have to be mum. You can be attendants—mutes, by jove!—yes that's it. And, I say, kiddies, you will jolly well play up, won't you? Don't stand any cheek. Stick it on, you know. I can't tell you how important it is about——about the lady's headache."
"I should think this would be a cool place for a headache to be quiet in," said Dora; and it was, for it was quite hidden in the shrubbery and no path to it.
"By Jove!" he remarked yet once again, "so it would. You're right!"
He led us out of the shrubbery and across the park. There were people dotted all about and they stared, but they touched their hats to the gentleman, and he returned their salute with stern politeness.