“I see a fair-haired infant,” she said, slowly; “I see a little girl of four racked with the whooping-cough; I see her later, eight she appears to be. She is in bed with measles.”
Miss Dowson stared at her open-mouthed.
“She goes away to the seaside to get strong,” continued the sorceress; “she is paddling; she falls into the water and spoils her frock; her mother——”
“Never mind about that,” interrupted the staring Miss Dowson, hastily. “I was only eight at the time and mother always was ready with her hands.”
“People on the beach smile,” resumed the other. “They—”
“It don't take much to make some people laugh,” said Miss Dowson, with bitterness.
“At fourteen she and a boy next door but seven both have the mumps.”
“And why not?” demanded Miss Dowson with great warmth. “Why not?”
“I'm only reading what I see in your hand,” said the other. “At fifteen I see her knocked down by a boat-swing; a boy from opposite brings her home.”
“Passing at the time,” murmured Miss Dowson.