He was riding home, his thoughts still in a most perturbed condition, when he suddenly drew up just in front of a little figure who stood by the roadside, attired as a gipsy, with a scarlet bandana handkerchief twisted round her head, a short skirt reaching not quite to her ankles made also of scarlet, and a little gay blue shawl across her shoulders. She was carrying a tambourine in one hand and in the other a great bunch of many-colored ribbons.
This little, unexpected figure was seen close to the rectory grounds, and Mr. Cardew was so startled by it, and so also was his horse, that he drew up abruptly and looked imperiously at the small suppliant for his favor.
“If you please, sir,” said Maggie Howland, speaking in her most enticing voice, and knowing well that her dress magnified her charms, “will you, kind sir, allow me to cross your hand with silver and let me tell your fortune?”
Mr. Cardew now burst into a merry laugh. 43
“Why, Miss Howland,” he said, “I beg your pardon; I did not recognize you.”
Maggie dropped a low curtsy. “I’m the gipsy girl Caranina, and I should like to tell your fortune, kind and generous sir.”
Just then the pretty face of Cicely was seen peeping over the rectory grounds. She was dressed as a flower-girl, and looked more lovely than he had ever seen her before.
“Why, dad, dad,” she cried, “oh! you must come in and join our fun. Mustn’t he, Maggie?”
“I am Caranina, the gipsy girl,” said Maggie, dropping another low curtsy, and holding her little tambourine in the most beseeching attitude; “and you are Flora, queen of the flowers.”
“Well, really, this is entertaining,” said Mr. Cardew. “What queer little minxes you all are! And may I really come in and see the fun?”