“I—I—I—I’m very much obliged to you, Mrs. Two-Shoes,” replied poor Mr. Toosypegs. “It’s real kind of you, I’m sure, and—”
“Vain mortal, spare thy superfluous thanks,” interrupted the mysterious one, with a wave of her hand, “Dark and terrific is the doom Fate has in store for thee—a doom so dreadful that dogs will cease to bark, the stars in the firmament hold their breath, and even the poultry in the barnyard turn pale to hear it. Woe to thee, unhappy man! Better for thee somebody else had a millstone tied round his neck, and were plunged into the middle of a frog-pond, than that thou shouldst live to see that day.”
“Good gracious!” ejaculated the horror-stricken Mr. Toosypegs, wiping the cold drops of perspiration off his face, as the sibyl flourished her snuff-box in the air, as if invoking kindred spirits to come to her aid.
“Sublime peroration!” exclaimed Ray, laughing inwardly.
“Live to see what day?” inquired Pet, whose curiosity was aroused. “The day he gets married, maybe.”
“Awful will be the results that will follow that day,” went on the seeress, scowling darkly at the irreverent Pet. “Tremendous clouds will flash vividly through the sky, the blinding thunder will show itself in all the colors of a dying dolphin, and a severe rain-storm will probably be the result. On thyself, oh, unhappiest of mortals, terrific will be the effects it will produce! These beautiful snuff-colored freckles will shake to their very center; these magnificent whiskers, which, I perceive, in two or three places show symptoms of sprouting, will wither away in dread, like the grass which perisheth. This courageous form, brave as a lion, which has never yet quailed before man or ghost, will be rent in twain like a mountain in a gale of wind; and an attack of influenza in your great toe will mercifully put an end to all your earthly agonies and troubles at once! Unhappy mortal, go! Thou hast heard thy doom.”
A more wretched and woebegone face than Mr. Toosypegs displayed, as he turned round, no earthly eye ever fell on before. Ray had turned to the window in convulsions of laughter.
“I ain’t well,” said Mr. Toosypegs, mournfully, as he took up his hat. “I’ve got a pain somewhere, and I guess I’ll go home. Good-morning, Mrs. Two-Shoes. I’m very much obliged to you, I’m sure.”
And slowly and dejectedly Mr. Toosypegs crushed his hat over his eyes, and turned his steps in the direction of Dismal Hollow.
“Poor Horlander!” said Pet; “if he isn’t scared out of his wits, if he ever had any. Say, Goody, won’t you tell my fortune, too?”