he
young lady," that Marguerite consented, and held out her hand. Quite
scornfully the gypsy said that her _own_ palm must first be crossed
with money. Marguerite accordingly gave her a dollar bill, thinking
that would be the full value of any fortune she would receive from a
wandering gypsy, but the money was indignantly returned--the oracle did
not tell one-dollar fortunes.

Somewhat astonished at so extensive a demand upon her purse, Marguerite
gave her another dollar, whereupon the gypsy at once declared that the
young lady had a lucky face, and would never want for anything during
her life. The usual dark and fair gentlemen figured largely in her
fortune, and--with a glance at Marguerite's blonde complexion--she was
to beware the treachery of a brunette rival; however, she was destined
to triumph in the end, and would indeed succeed in all her
undertakings. I am sure the gypsy could have promised no less,
considering the high price she placed upon her predictions.

Gabrielle's experience is very different. She is visiting a former
schoolmate, a young girl of her own age. Bessie is now a pupil of
Vassar College, and enthusiastic over her studies: consequently the
amusements of the two girls are of a very sedate nature: in Gabrielle's
words, "A hermit in his cell, my dear Cecilia, never had a more quiet
life than I at present enjoy."

She and Bessie had commenced, Gabrielle told me, to write a story
together. The _debut_ was most brilliant, and for a time they worked
very harmoniously, but unluckily the two little authoresses had
different views respecting the _proposal_ (not drawn from life, I
imagine, considering their years), and in Gabrielle's letter of
yesterday no mention was made of the progress of the story.

The letter, which was very vivacious, was chiefly devoted to the girls'
exploits while taking a buggy drive. Gabrielle, who is so fearless
with her own ponies, quite scorned the lamb-like animal that was sent
up from the livery stable, but she appears to have had much diversion,
nevertheless, to judge from her letter. She says:

"Yesterday I tried to break the monotony of life at Seneca Lake by
hiring a buggy and horse for Bessie and me to drive. You should have
heard the shriek of horror that rent the air at the approach of the
peaceful old nag. Miss Carpenter exclaimed:

"'Oh mercy, he points his ears!'

"Poor beast, his ears were pointed by nature, and _he_ could not help
it. Mrs.