"Thank you," said Billy, "will it be true?"
"No, of course not. Ah—h! you have lately had serious trouble."
"That's true," said Billy.
"Then I've made a mistake. You will marry a tall, short, blonde dark complected man."
"Hold on," said Billy, "I'm a boy—how can I marry a man?"
"There I knew something was wrong. I have the deck of cards that I tell ladies' fortunes with—shall I try it over again?"
"No, I think not," said Billy, "I must be going."
"Purr-r-r-r-r, Purr-r-r-r," and a great black, hump-backed cat with glaring green eyes and nine long black tails rubbed against his leg.
"Oh!" he cried, "what a large cat."
"Yes," said the old woman, "that's my black cat-o-nine tails. I'm very proud of him, he's the unluckiest cat of the entire thirteen in Superstitionburg."