Mr. Gilroy put his hand in his pocket and produced two silver half dollars.
"Here's your money. Now be honest! What sort of a bunco game is this? And where in thunder did you get my name?"
They pocketed the money, dropped two more curtsies, and evaded inconvenient questions.
"We tell-a your fortune," said Conny, with business-like directness. She brought out the pack of cards, plumped herself cross-legged on the floor, and dealt them out in a wide circle. Patty seized the gentleman's hand in her two coffee-stained little paws, and turned it palm up for inspection. He made an embarrassed effort to draw away, but she clung with the tenacious grip of a monkey.
"I see a lady!" she announced with promptitude.
"Tall young lady—brown eyes, yellow hair, ver' beautiful," Conny echoed from the floor, as she leaned forward and intently studied the queen of hearts.
"But she make-a you lot of trouble," Patty added, frowning over a blister on his hand. "I see li'l' quarrel."
Mr. Gilroy's eyes narrowed. In spite of himself, he commenced to be interested.
"You like-a her very much," pronounced Conny from below.
"But you never see her any more," chimed in Patty. "One—two—three—four months, you no see her, no spik with her." She looked up into his startled eyes. "But you think about her every day!"