FORTUNES.
All the school-girls were talking just now about a wonderful woman,
who had suddenly dropped down, perhaps out of the moon--a woman who
could tell what had happened, and what would happen, as easily as she
would wink.
"Why," said the graduating class, talking two or three at once, "she
can tell you when you were born, how your parents look, what's your
given name, and all about your friends, whether they're light or dark
complexion, and--"
"Well, there," said Grace, contemptuously, "that's smart! Does anybody
want to hear it all over again, when they knew it before? I'd like her
to tell something new."
"So she does," cried the girls, with breathless eagerness; "she can
foretell things, and they do come to pass, too,--things that make your
hair stand on end."
"I wonder!" said timid Lucy Lane, shivering, and looking behind her.
"O, fie! Lucy," said. Grace, patronizingly; "don't you be a bit
afraid, dear; it's all a sham. I can foretell as well as Mrs. Gypsy.
I'll foretell what we're going to have for dinner--a dog in a
blanket."
"There, now," laughed Diademia; "I've heard of eating roasted horses,
but I didn't know it ever came to cats and dogs."
Grace explained that a dog in a blanket was a roly-poly pudding.
"But about this gypsy," continued Di; "anybody'd think, to hear you,
Grace Clifford, that you supposed we believed in her."
At this speech the girls all declared, by gestures and exclamations,
that nothing could be more absurd than to suppose that they had any
faith in such nonsense. What did they care about it? Only it was so
queer! True, they knew of girls who had been to see this strange
being,--young ladies who never told a lie in their lives,--and these
young ladies all "deposed" and said that the gypsy was a perfect
wonder!
Grace listened with curling lip to the strange stories which the
princesses narrated. There was Panoria Swan,--the proud young lady
who, the boys said, had swallowed a whalebone and couldn't
stoop,--even Panoria Swan sailed down in all her majesty to this
gypsy, who sent her home so terribly frightened that she ran every
step of the way, and forgot to scowl for six hours. Then there was the
large girl with the geographical name, Missouri Arkansas Smith, who
had found a pot of gold, or was going to; and a man who had had a
splendid future foretold, which had come to pass; that is to say, all
that had happened beforehand had come to pass, every speck of it.
The arrival of this singular stranger was the most startling thing
which had fallen to the notice of the Ruby Seal Society since its
birth. For a day or two the usual game of skipping the rope was voted
tedious, and the princesses formed a group by themselves, greatly
fascinated by hearing and telling stories of this weird woman of the
woods.
How delightful if they could make up a party and go to consult her! It
would be an appalling thing to venture alone; but there is strength in
numbers.
"Now, Gracie Clifford, if you'll only go ahead!"
"O, yes, Gracie; what a gay time we'll have! Not that we, any of us,
believe such witch stories. Just for the frolic, you know."
"But I have a perfect _despise_ for fortune-tellers; it's not
respectable; it's silly, and--I'd be ashamed."
Grace did not add what she really thought--"and I'm afraid it's
wicked."
"I'm right glad you feel so, Gracie," said gentle Mahla Linck, laying
her hand caressingly on their queen's shoulder. "I just know it's not
right to go."
But in spite of her assumed indifference, Grace had as much curiosity
as any of the others. True, she declared, over and over again, that
she didn't care about going within fifty miles of this gypsy; that,
let the crazy creature say what she might, it would surely turn out
exactly the reverse.
Still, after having cleared her conscience by all this preamble, she
consented to go, "just to please the girls." They were all delighted;
for, in their opinion, Grace's presence gave an air of respectability
to the enterprise.
They decided that this was one of those affairs which could not be
mentioned to any of their mothers. It was not probable that their
mothers could be brought to understand the case; so difficult is it
for grown-up women to perceive that there is no harm in a little
frolic! Grace was very uneasy; still she freely acknowledged, with
the others, that the thing must be done by stealth, or not at all. The
princesses shook hands in all solemnity, promising secrecy till death.
They arranged, all but Mahla Linck, to meet for a walk the next
"evening," which with New Englanders means "afternoon." Delay was
dangerous, for the gypsy might not stay long in town. She lived on the
wing, and was no more to be depended upon than a butterfly.
Saturday "evening" came, clear and cloudless; and at two o'clock the
girls met by appointment. Did Grace Clifford feel no twinges of
conscience when her kind mother packed a basket with dainties, and
kissed her good by? Did she think the queen of the Ruby Seal had a
right to keep such secrets from such a mother? Ah, this was not the
conduct one might expect from a little girl who reads two chapters in
the Bible every day. It is to be feared, however, that Grace only
tripped carelessly over her task, instead of studying the Best of
Books with real attention.
After much chatting and laughing, and losing their way a few times in
the "green gloom of the woods," the girls reached a settlement in the
country called "Small's Enlargement," passed a romantic log church,
and came in sight of the fortune-teller's dwelling, an unpainted
cottage snuggled in among gooseberry-bushes, tulip-trees, scrub-oaks,
persimmon, and Judas-trees. The tenement was owned by Mr. Harrington,
Isa's father, but was so sadly out of repair that no respectable
person would rent it; and it was usually occupied only by rats, or for
a short time in the summer by some wandering family.
Grace pulled something which seemed to be the remains of a door-knob;
but if it was connected with a bell, the bell was certainly
tongue-tied, for it would not ring.
"Let's walk right in," said Grace, lifting the latch. Like many
Western houses, this cottage had no front hall, and you stepped at
once into the parlor. The girls were greeted by a dense cloud of
smoke, which quite filled the room. Grace fancied for a moment that
this strange woman had been invoking some sort of a spell with the aid
of magic, and looked about her, half expecting to see "black spirits
and white" floating in the air. But if spirits there were, they could
not be discerned through the smoke, which was pouring out through the
acorn-shaped stove in the corner.
The occupant of the room did not come forward to greet her guests, but
said in a low tone, as if muttering to herself, "Whatever is to be
will be! Can't help your fate! As well go set an army of grasshoppers
to fighting against the United States army! Yes, go set 'em to
fighting, I tell you."
This singular speech startled everybody. Poor Lucy Lane trembled, and
caught fast hold of Grace's hand, while Grace, for her part, felt, as
she had declared she should feel, ready to laugh, though partly from
nervousness.
The strange hostess glared at Grace in silence, but with much
displeasure, and very likely from that moment marked out for her a
dark future.
This mysterious woman was dressed in a half barbaric costume. She had
on a garment which resembled a coat, only the sleeves were loose and
flowing, like those of a lady's dress. She wore Turkish drawers of
green calico, gathered into a band at the ankle, and her feet blazed
with red slippers, brilliantly adorned with "gold spangles." Over her
shoulders she now threw a loose robe, like a cloak, made of scarlet
moreen, for all the world like a pulpit curtain, down which dangled
two huge tassels.
By the time this robe of state had been carefully adjusted, the gypsy
came forward and welcomed her visitors. Isa she patted on the shoulder
with much cordiality, shook hands with Judith Pitcher and Lucy Lane,
but passed by Grace with only a glance.
The old crone's face was as strange as her dress. Her eyes were
intensely black and bright; they seemed to have burned out the rest of
her face, which was very thin and haggard. These wild eyes sank far
into her head, "like birds' nests under the eaves of a house." To
crown all, she wore a fierce turban of soiled white lace. Altogether,
she was weird-looking enough to frighten a person of tolerably strong
nerves. Well for the more timid of the little girls if they should
escape from her with no worse effects than horrible dreams!
"Well, my pretty dears," said she at last, "what can I do for you?
Whatever is to be will be! We're nothing but a handful of
grasshoppers! Do you dare to have me tear down the _mountainious_
veil of futurity?"
It seemed necessary to make some reply. "Yes,'m," said two or three of
the girls, in tremulous tones.
"Please, may I raise the window, ma'am?" said Grace. The
fortune-teller deigned no reply, but went on talking as if to
herself:--
"The proper and true way to cure smoke, is to start a roaring fire,
then pour on salt and water, and the steam will choke out the smoke.
There are," continued she in the same tone, "some children of this
generation who think they know more than their betters; but they
never'll set the river afire. Now, you mark my words, such knowing
children never'll set the river afire."
The smoke growing worse, Isabel proposed that they should hear their
fortunes out of doors. The gypsy readily consented, for from the first
she had looked upon Isabel with a friendly eye. The truth was, she
remembered the little girl's babyhood, and had often held her in her
arms, though of this Isa knew nothing.
Seated on a rude bench under the budding trees, the little girls and
their dark hostess formed a picturesque group. All hearts beat high
with awe and curiosity, as the gypsy drew out from the folds of her
scarlet robe a pack of soiled cards, "shuffled" them with much
deliberation, and passed them to Isabel, saying, "Tell me, young miss,
shall I predicate your fortune by astrology, by cards, or by the lines
on the palm of your hand?"
Isa looked at the other girls, hoping for advice in this important
matter.
"What _would_ you do, Gracie?"
"Suppose we each have it different?" replied Grace. "You take the
cards, I'll take the astrology, and some of the others can use the
lines on their hands."
"Very well," replied Isa, turning to the gypsy, "I reckon I'll take
the cards. Aren't they just as good?"
"First," replied Mrs. Gypsy, with a solemn glance sky-ward, "first you
may cross my palms with silver."
"We've nothing but scrip," replied Grace, who was obliged to do the
financial business for the whole party.
"They said you asked six bits apiece for your fortunes, and we've
brought it," added she, putting into the woman's hand three dollars
and seventy-five cents in paper bills, the joint sums which the girls
had brought with them. They might have made a vastly better use of
their money by throwing it into the acorn-shaped stove for kindling.
Grace's "six bits" was all she had left of her monthly allowance, and
this she had been setting aside for the soldiers in the hospital; but
the soldiers could wait a while for their currant jelly, whereas it is
not every day one can have one's fortune told by a black-browed gypsy,
with a turban on her head.
The woman pretended to be surprised at the scarcity of silver, and the
girls trembled lest she should, even now, send them off with no
fortunes, just when they were on tiptoe with awe and curiosity.