“Is that all? Well, all I got to say is that you got a good deal of money for telling me something that I’ve been dreaming about for I don’t know how long.”
Mrs. Gooch sniffed. “She’s just like all the rest of these thieving gypsies. They’re all frauds and liars. Telling fortunes and stealing children is all they know how to do. If I had my way, they’d all be locked up.”
The two gypsies leaned forward, their hands close to the stove, their heads almost touching. There was nothing in their actions or manner to indicate that they heard the foregoing remarks. Nevertheless, they scowled unseen and there was evil in their black eyes.
“Anybody could have told you all that she did, Oliver,” complained Mrs. Grimes, “but that wouldn’t make it true, would it? Three dollars and ten cents for all that rubbish!”
“And they’ll be robbing your hen roost before morning, Baxter,” said Mr. Gooch.
“Well,” mused Baxter, “the only really unpleasant thing that’s going to happen to Oliver October, far as I can make out, is that he’s going to look exactly like me. That is purty rough, ain’t it, Mrs. Sage?”
“At any rate,” said she, “he will have the satisfaction of being unmistakably recognized as a wise son.”
The gypsies were preparing to depart. Their shifty eyes wandered over the heads of the company, taking in the meager contents of the room. There was a pleased leer on the lips of the younger of the two. Mr. Baxter arose.
“Taking it by and large, Queen,” he said, “I guess you took us all in purty neatly. I ain’t blaming you. It’s your business to pick out the easiest kind of fools and then soak it to ’em.”
The “queen” drew herself erect and gave him a look that would have done credit to the most regal personage in the world.