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