“I thought you said she was going to die before he was ten,” said Mr. Gooch.
Covert glances passed between the two gypsies, the younger now being wide awake. The fortune-teller bent low over the Baxter palm and studied it more carefully.
“I—I seem to see a strange woman,” she muttered. “Perhaps it is his step-mother. It is possible that you will marry again, Mister.”
“You’re off your base there, Queen,” said Mr. Baxter firmly. “It ain’t possible.”
“This is all humbug, Brother Baxter.”
“A great deal more is being revealed to me by the light of the star, Mister,” urged the gypsy, now eager to give good measure. “Shall I go on?”
“After what you said about me being likely to get married again, all I got to say is that I don’t believe a derned word of anything you’ve told me. That boy’s never going to have a step-mother unless he has a step-father first.”
“You feel the same way about step-mothers that I do about brother-in-laws,” put in Mr. Sikes.
“Go on, Queen,” commanded Mr. Baxter.
“I see a great white house and a building with a huge dome upon it. Your son will sit in the halls of state, in the councils of his land. Ah, the vision grows dim again. It may mean that he will decline the greatest honor the people of this land could confer upon him.”