“What do you mean?” demanded the woman, hastily, and with a flush coming into her cheek again.
“You know very well that you are warning me not to assist the girl who has run away from this camp,” Mother Wit said, boldly.
“Ha! Then you did see her?” cried the Gypsy.
“You know I did. You played a trick on me to find out. You are not telling my fortune, but you are endeavoring to find out, through me, about the girl who has run away. And I tell you right now, you will not learn anything further from me—or from the other girls.”
The Gypsy queen gazed at her with lowering brows; but Laura Belding neither “shivered nor shook.”
“You are quite courageous—for a girl,” observed the woman, at last.
“I may be, or not. But I am intelligent enough to know when I am being fooled. Unless you have something of importance to tell me I shall conclude that this fortune-telling seance is ended,” and Laura rose from her seat.
“Wait,” said the woman, in a low voice. “I will tell you one thing. You may not consider it worth your attention now, little lady; but it will prove so in the end. Do not cross the Romany folk—it is bad luck!”
“And I do not believe in ‘luck,’” rejoined Laura, smiling. She was determined not to let the woman see that she was at all frightened. Surely these people would not dare detain, or injure, seven girls.
“An unbeliever!” muttered the Gypsy woman. “We can tell nothing to an unbeliever.”