“And if you have a great deal of money you’ll be rich.”
“It ain’t possible!” once more broke in the unbelieving Miss Lawless.
“And if you don’t die, you’ll live to be pretty old.”
“Now, who’d ’a’ thought it,” said Pet.
“Leave me, wretched unbeliever!” said the old woman, flinging away Pet’s hand, with angry disdain. “Leave me; but beware! I am not to be mocked with impunity.”
“Neither am I,” said Pet; “so I’m not going to believe a word about them thirteen red-headed children. A baker’s dozen, too; as if twelve wasn’t enough! Poh! I ain’t such a goose, Goody Two-Shoes.”
“Well, wait, you misdirected, sunburned, unfortunate, turned-up-nosed misbeliever!” exclaimed the old virago, shaking her fist at Pet, in a rage. “Wait! And when my words come true, remember they were foretold by Goody Two-shoes.”
“Well, I declare!” said Pet. “If I wasn’t the patientest, best-tempered little girl in Maryland, I wouldn’t put up with all this abuse. Not even my nose is allowed to escape; and it never injured you or anybody else in its life.”
And Pet, with a deeply-wounded look, ran her finger along the insulted proboscis, as if to soothe its injured feelings.
“Will you tell my fortune, Mother Two-Shoes?” said Ray, turning round. “I am particularly anxious to know the future.”