“Listen to the witch woman, Leila.” The Irish girl reached for one of Marjorie’s hands and peered at the pink outspread palm. “You are going on a journey——”
“Of course I am. I know that. Tell me something I don’t——”
“Treat the seeress with more respect. You are going on a long journey in a car. Might it not be a roadster? You——”
“Oh, see here. I can tell my own fortune as well as that,” objected Marjorie.
“Not yet. Now be more civil. I am no ordinary person,” Leila rebuked. “On this journey you will be in the company of a small, fair woman. She is considered a good driver. Ha! I see also a tall, dark woman. She is Irish, and sits beside you in the tonneau. The journey is long, but——”
“You said that before,” Kathie put in mischievously.
“Now did I?” Leila beamed more broadly.
“Never mind the rest of that fortune. I need my hand.” Marjorie caught Leila around the waist and hugged her with vigor.
They had reached the garage now and were standing near the doorway waiting for Vera and the roadster.
“You and Vera are going to Sanford with me, you darling!” was the delighted lieutenant’s cry. “It will be the greatest lark imaginable—to go home in the roadster. How I wish Robin and Kathie could go, too.”