“Sh!” put in Mr. Sikes testily.
“Alas! He will have a great sorrow before he is ten. I can see death standing beside him. He will lose some one who is very dear to him.”
“Aha!” ejaculated Mr. Gooch, as if here was something to relish.
Mr. Baxter laughed shrilly but mirthlessly. “Look close, Queen,” he said. “I bet it’s me he’s going to lose.”
“Nay. Some one nearer to him than his father.”
“Stop!” said he soberly, trying to withdraw his hand. “I don’t want to hear any more. If you mean his—his mother, why, you’ll have to stop.”
Some coaxing and a little ridicule on the part of the spectators decided Baxter. He laughed and, edging forward on his chair, ordered the gypsy to continue.
“Let me go back a little,” she droned. “The vision is clearer. He will come out of college at the top of his class, with great honors. Then, soon after, will come the wars. He will fight in foreign lands.”
“That bears out what I’ve claimed for years,” said Mr. Link. “We’ve got to lick England again.”
“Your son will have many narrow escapes, Mister, but he will come home to his mother, safe and sound.”