“I must go,” exclaimed Jean, realizing that the time was not waiting for fortunes. “I thank you, and will remember your kindness.”
“You are a good girl—one who will be famous some day,” and, with these flattering words, the fortune teller bowed as Jean hurried off.
“So my enemy was Tavia,” thought Jean. “Well, I have always known that Tavia spilled that glass of water down my neck purposely. I’ll show her, however, that I’m no coward, and won’t be interfered with by a giggling country girl.”
So deep in thought was Jean that she did not notice, in the thicket that lined the path, a villainous looking man. As she reached him he stepped out in front of her.
“Oh!” she screamed. “What do you want?”
“Your purse,” he replied calmly, placing a dirty hand on her arm.
“My purse? There is nothing in it! I have no money!”
“Gave it all to the old woman?” he sneered. “Well, I’ll be satisfied with the purse, and the money order you have in that letter. I need it all.”
“You cannot have it,” cried the girl. “Let me go or——”
“Take it easy,” he said in that mocking way. “I might tell your fortune too. You—you won’t always get checks from—the investment company!”