“Peace, scoffer!” exclaimed the beldame, fiercely. “The fates disclose a speedy change in thy destiny.”
“I expect they do,” said Pet; “for I’m going to be sent to school soon.”
“Some dark torture is in store for you, an agony that nothing can alleviate, a nameless secret misery—”
“Perhaps it’s the colic,” suggested Pet “If it is, I ain’t afraid; ’cause gin and water will cure it.”
“Silence, girl! and mock not destiny thus. At some future day, you will be a wife.”
“Well there ain’t anything very wonderful in that, I’m sure; I didn’t need to be told that. You didn’t expect I’d be an old maid—did you?” said Pet.
“I behold here,” continued the seeress, peering into the little palm quite heedless of the interruption, “a miserable little hut, where thirteen red-haired children are playing, and a tawny woman, with a dirty face, in the midst of them, is—”
“Spanking them all round!” interrupted Pet, eagerly. “If she isn’t, it ain’t me.”
“Will you be silent?” vociferated the ancient prophetess, with increasing sharpness. “Terrible is the doom of those who scoff at fortune as thou dost! Don’t withdraw your hand. It is here plainly revealed that if you travel much you’ll see a good deal.”
“Go ’way!” ejaculated Pet, incredulously.