“But, Serepty,” argued Sikes, “don’t you know what might happen if we make ’em mad? They put a curse on you that won’t ever come off. Now, I don’t think we ought to take a chance—”
“They sha’n’t go near that baby, so that settles it.”
“Well, I should say not,” exclaimed Mrs. Gooch loudly.
“Wait a minute,” said Sikes, struck by an idea. He hurried to the front door. As he passed into the hall, Horace Gooch strode over and slammed the sitting-room door after him.
“Say, Serepty,” began Mr. Baxter, a pleading note in his voice, “I’d kind of like to know whether my son is going to be President of the United States some day.”
“How would you like it if she was to tell you he’s going to turn out to be a jail-bird or something like that, Oliver Baxter?”
“Oh, but they never tell you anything unpleasant, you know,” said Mrs. Sage, nudging Mr. Baxter.
“My dear Josephine, please do not—”
Once more Mr. Sikes burst into the room—and again he left the door open.
“She says it ain’t necessary to even see the baby. When they’re as young as he is, it’s always her rule to tell their fortunes sight unseen. What’s more, she says if all she says don’t come true she’ll refund the money. Nothing could be fairer than that.”