A particularly violent blast of wind roared and whistled about the corners of the house, rattling the windows in their frames and peppering the panes with a fusillade of sleet. The younger gypsy drew her shawl closer about her chin and slunk a little deeper into the chair.
“A tough night on horses,” said Mr. Link, and then cleared his throat hastily.
“Maybe you’d sooner be alone, Ollie,” said Mr. Sikes, considerately.
“I wouldn’t be left alone with her for anything, Joe.”
The gypsy began, in a deep, monotonous, rather awesome tone.
“I see a wonderful child. He is strong and sturdy. In the hand of his father the stars have laid their prophecy. It is very clear. This babe will grow up to be a fine—Ah, wait! Yes, a very remarkable man.”
Another long silence, broken sacrilegiously by Mr. Sikes.
“I could have told you that, Ollie, for nothing,” he said.
“Sh!”
“I can see this son of yours, Mister, as a leader of men. Great honor is in store for him, and great wealth.”