“Fortunes?” she asked, smiling, and revealing an ugly gap in her front teeth, which made her look almost like a story-book witch.
“How much?” asked Max, holding up a quarter in his hand.
The gypsy shook her head. “One dollar,” she announced.
Max pulled down the corners of his mouth and looked doubtfully at his friends.
“There are fourteen of us,” he said. “Fourteen at fifty cents each is seven dollars. All in silver.... Take it or leave it.”
The woman regarded him shrewdly; she saw that he meant what he said.
“All right,” she agreed. “I’ll go into my tent and get ready.”
The young people turned to Max with whispered congratulations.
“She certainly speaks perfect English,” remarked Mary Louise.
They sat down on the grass while they waited for the gypsy woman to summon them, and when the tent flap finally opened, Jane Patterson and Norman Wilder jumped to their feet and walked over to the fortune teller first.