“They invariably say that,” said Mr. Sage, smiling.
“Sh!” hissed Baxter fiercely.
“He is in uniform. Of the military, I believe, although the vision is not yet entirely clear. I do not recognize the uniform.”
“Have you ever seen a general?” inquired Mr. Baxter, wistfully.
Mr. Link interposed. “I know what it is. Many’s the time that infant’s father has marched in a funeral procession wearing a Knights of Pythias uniform. Does the hat appear to have a long white plume on it, Queen?”
“There will be wars, Mister, bloody wars,” went on the gypsy, paying not the slightest attention to the obliging undertaker. “I see men in uniform following your son—many men, Mister, and all of them armed.”
“Sounds like the police to me,” observed Mrs. Sage.
“Do they catch him?” cried Mrs. Grimes breathlessly.
“He puts away the trappings of war,” continued the imperturbable seeress. “I see him as a successful man, at the head of great undertakings. He is still young. He has been out of college but a few years.”
“That will please his mother,” said Baxter, sniffling. “She has always wanted that boy to go to college.”