The woman smiled a little. "No?" she said. "Let's see your hand."
Tim extended a grimy fist across the table, the lines of which were so obscured with the soil of Coombs's landing that it might have puzzled more than a wizard to read them. But the woman, her keen eyes twinkling, remarked quickly, "That's a fisherman's hand. You're the best fisherman on the pond."
Tim began to take more interest. "I've caught the biggest bass of the year," he said.
"That's it; what did I tell you?" exclaimed the woman. "I think you're going to have a lot of money left to you some day," she added, noting at a glance Tim's poor attire. Little Tim grinned.
"You have some courage, too," continued the woman, who had not failed to observe the boy's features and the glance of his eye. But at this moment Little Tim gave an exclamation of surprise. Surveying the room he had espied the lettering on a partly unrolled banner in one corner, where the words, "Lorelei, the Sorceress," were inscribed.
"Why, I've seen you before," he said. "That is, I haven't seen you, either; but I've seen your picture on that canvas—and you don't look like that at all."
The woman laughed heartily. "You're sure you don't think it looks like me?" she added, and laughed harder than ever. "Well, I should hope not," she said; "but I fix up like that some, for the show. Where'd you see me?"
"Why, it was down at Benton," answered Tim. "You were with the circus."
Then, as the full remembrance of the occasion came to him, Tim became of a sudden excited. "Say," he asked, "what did Old Witham want?"
The woman looked at him in surprise.