“No, but she will in the end, and much, very much more!” These words were on the tip of Florence’s tongue, but she did not say them. This surely was a strange world.
“June,” said Florence after they had left the home of the voodoo priestess—her voice was low and serious—“you must be very careful! Such things as these might get you into a great deal of trouble; yes, and real peril.”
“Peril?” The younger girl’s voice trembled.
“Just that,” Florence replied. “Most of these fortune tellers, I’m convinced, are rather simple-minded people who earn a living by telling people the things they want to hear. They read your palm, study the bumps on your head, tell you what the stars you were born under mean to you, or gaze into a crystal. After that they make you happy by saying they see that you are to inherit money, have new clothes, go on a journey, marry a rich man and live happily ever after.” Florence laughed low.
“They charge you half a dollar,” she went on. “You go away happily and no real harm is done.
“But some of these people, I think—mind you, I don’t know for sure—some of them may be sharpers, grafters in a big way. And when a dishonest person is prevented from reaping a rich but unearned reward, he is likely to become truly dangerous. S—so, watch your step!
“Anyway,” she added after a time, “your problem may perhaps be solved in simpler ways. Remember the suggestion of Frances Ward? She said you should be able to recall more than you have told thus far. If you could remember the place where you lived with your father, perhaps we could find that place. Then, it is possible someone living near there would remember your father. That would help. In time perhaps we could untangle the twisted skein that is your mysterious past.”
“Oh, do you think we could?” June’s tone was eager. “But how can I remember a thing I don’t recall?”
“There are people, great psychologists, who have ways of making people think back, back, back into the remotest corners of their past.”
“Do you know one of them?” June asked excitedly.