"Walk in," said the slattern, and led them down the hall to a stuffy little room hung with mysterious charts. Peggy looked about her with an air of interest.
"I am almost sure this is the place," she cried. "Charts on the wall and red curtains, just as Roxanna said. Yes, I'm pretty sure we're right."
Amy opened her mouth and closed it without emitting a sound, in a fashion suggestive of a dying fish. She perceived from Peggy's expression that she was expected to listen to her friend's observations, instead of taking part in the conversation.
"I don't know why you should act so scared over the idea of having your fortune told, as lucky a girl as you are. For of course your Uncle Philander's money is all coming to you."
Again Amy's jaw dropped. She looked frankly stupid.
"Doesn't it seem lovely to think you're going to see Europe this summer?" continued Peggy enthusiastically. "I think you were sensible though, to travel all over this country first. O, dear! It would make me fairly envious if it were anybody but you. To think that I've hardly been out of the town I was born in, and here you go everywhere."
Peggy's fancy sketches were beginning to be interesting, by virtue of their sheer audacity. Amy listened, a faint amusement showing through her air of perplexity.
"Won't it seem funny to settle down in Germany to study your music, after your lovely summer? But I suppose you love that too, almost as much as travelling. That's what comes of being a genius."
This time Amy was forced to bite her lips to keep from laughing. Musical appreciation had been left out of Amy's composition. She could not recognize the most familiar air when she heard it hummed, and, as far as she could see, the only difference between a street band and a symphony orchestra was that one made more noise in proportion to the number of players. But even her amusement over the role of a musical genius, so unexpectedly assigned her, vanished when the red curtains parted and a tall woman came into the room.
The discovery of her callers appeared to surprise Madame Planchet. "My assistant neglected to inform me that anyone wished to see me," she explained, in what Peggy mentally denominated as a "mincing voice." "You wish your fortunes told, of course. I give several grades of readings, ranging in price from twenty-five cents to a dollar."