"That and selling fancywork. Come, I will introduce you to Miriam."
As Dick was curious to see the woman who was at the head of this small tribe of gypsies, he followed his conductor, and was taken into the hut. Miriam proved to be a woman of middle age, whose features were not unpleasant. She had raven black hair streaming down her back, and an eye as dark as a sloe. Her attire was shabby, with the exception of a bright-colored shawl worn carelessly across her shoulders. The man spoke to her in a strange tongue, and she regarded Dick with some attention.
"You are a brave-looking boy," she said. "Shall I tell your fortune? Come, cross my hand with silver, and I will see what the future holds in store for you."
Dick wasn't particularly curious about his future, and he rather doubted the ability of the woman to foretell anything of importance. However, he concluded to help the tribe along to the extent of a silver quarter, so he pulled the coin out and placed it in her hand.
"Your left hand," she said.
Dick presented it. She pored over the lines and mounds, which palmistry teaches mean so much, for a minute or more before speaking again.
"You were born of parents in moderate circumstances, and you are the youngest of four children," she said.
"That's hitting the mark pretty close," he thought. "I wonder how she can get that out of my hand?"
"One of your parents is dead," she continued, "and it seems to be your father."
"Another good guess," thought Dick.