“Come hither, scoffer,” said the sibyl, with solemn sternness. “Appear, and learn the dark doom Destiny has in store for thee. Fate, that rules the fortunes of men as well as little yaller gals, will make you laugh on ’tother side of your mouth, one of these days.”
“Oh, Hamlet! what a falling off was there!” quoted Ray, laughing. “What a short jump that was from the sublime! Don’t pile on the agony too high, Mother Awful.”
“Peace, irreverent mortal!” said Goody Two-Shoes giving her snuff-box a solemn wave; “peace, while I foretell the future fate of this tawny little mortal before me!”
“Well, if you ain’t the politest old lady!” ejaculated Pet. “But go on; I don’t mind being called ugly, now. I’m getting used to it, and rather like it.”
“You’ll never be drowned,” began the sibyl, looking down prophetically in Pet’s little dark palm.
“Well, that’s pleasant, anyway,” said Pet.
“Because you were born to be hanged,” went on the old woman, unheeding the interruption.
“Whew!” whistled Pet.
“Your days are numbered—”
“Well, I never saw a number on one of ’em yet,” interrupted the incorrigible Petronilla.