“Thursday, then, remember, and this is Tuesday,” said Mrs. Cartwright. “I am the busiest woman in Newport, so I must run away now. You should see my house and lawn. They are full of workmen. The fair is to begin promptly at four, and will last until midnight. We shall have dancing on the lawn, but I want you girls and a few friends to come into the house after supper. When you finish playing fortune-tellers you can slip up to my room and dress. Nobody must guess, when you come down, that you have not just arrived. Now, I positively must be off. Tell Mollie and Grace I am depending on them to act as waitresses. Gladys isn’t willing to help. She wants all her time for Harry Townsend.”
“Ruth,” said Aunt Sallie, the afternoon of the bazaar, “I really cannot permit you to go anywhere, looking as you do, even if you are wearing a disguise. You are too horrible!”
“Come and see Barbara,” Grace called from the next room. “I am sure she must look worse. Why,” she asked, laughing, “do you and Ruth want to disguise yourselves as such dreadful-looking gypsies. You might just as easily have arranged to look like young and charming ones.”
“Oh, no,” said Bab. “We want to look like the real thing, not like stage gypsies.” Barbara had arranged to appear as much like “Granny Ann” as she possibly could. A red and yellow handkerchief was bound around her head almost to her eyebrows, her face was stained to a deep brown, with lines and heavy seams drawn over it; even her hands were made up to look old and weather beaten.
“Remember, you have never seen nor heard of these extraordinary fortune-tellers before,” warned Ruth. “And don’t forget, Barbara and Ruth are at home at Mrs. Ewing’s, but they may feel well enough to come to the fair in the evening.” Ruth caught Bab’s arm, and together they made a low curtsey.
“Beautiful ones,” Ruth went on, pointing to Miss Sallie, who was looking handsome in a gown of pale gray crêpe, with a violet hat and sunshade, and to Mollie and Grace, who were dressed like Swiss peasant girls, “your fortunes I would like to tell before you go to the Fair. Easy it is for my wise eyes to perceive that you will be the belles and beauties of the entertainment. Now, farewell!”
The “gypsies” were to drive over early to Mrs. Cartwright’s in a closed carriage. Ralph was to take Miss Sallie, Grace and Mollie in the motor car later on.
“Granny Ann” and “old Meg” slipped inside the gypsy tent before any of the guests had arrived at the bazaar. They had gazed in wonder at Mrs. Cartwright’s beautiful lawn, changed to look like a country fair. It was hung with bunting and flags, and had small tables and chairs under the trees; also a May-pole strung with long streamers of different colored ribbons. Mrs. Cartwright had planned a May-pole dance as one of the chief features of the afternoon, and Mollie and Grace were both to take part.
For the gypsies, life was a serious matter. The tent was divided by a red curtain; on a low wooden table burned a round iron pot filled with charcoal and curious odorous herbs; a pack of dirty cards lay near it. “The cards must be dirty,” argued Ruth, “or no one would believe we were the real thing in gypsies.” Two rough stools stood by the table, and the only daylight shone through the tent flap. On the other side of the curtain, Mrs. Cartwright had been kinder to her gypsies. Here were a wicker couch and big chairs, where they could rest and talk; also a table for refreshments, “for,” laughed Mrs. Cartwright, as she left the tent to welcome her first guests, “I have always heard that gypsies are a particularly hungry race of people.”
Mrs. Cartwright’s fair was a huge success. The most fashionable “set” in Newport were present, entering into the spirit of the occasion with great zest.