you?"

"Why, she said that I should meet with my dearest friend to-night. Now
that does puzzle me, for I have but one in the world, and he is a long
way off."

"Well, if you do meet your friend, then I'll believe her; but if not, it
has been all guess work; and pray what did you pay for all this--was it
a shilling, or did she pick your pocket?"

"That's what puzzles me,--she refused to take anything. I offered it
again and again, and she said, `No; that she would have no money--that
her gift was not to be sold.'"

"Well, that is odd. Do you hear what this young man says?" said
Melchior, addressing the others, who had swallowed every word.

"Yes," replied one; "but who is this person?"

"The queen of the gipsies, I am told. I never saw such a wonderful
woman in my life--her eye goes right through you. I met her on the
common, and, as she passed, she dropped a handkerchief. I ran back to
give it her, and then she thanked me and said, `Open your hand and let
me see the palm. Here are great lines, and you will be fortunate;' and
then she told me a great deal more, and bid God bless me."

"Then if she said that, she cannot have dealings with the _devil_,"
observed Melchior.

"Very odd--very strange--take no money--queen of the gipsies," was
echoed from all sides.

The landlady and the bar-maid listened with wonder, when who should come
in, as previously agreed, but Timothy. I pretended not to see him; but
he came up to me, seizing me by the hand, and shaking it with apparent
delight, and crying, "Wilson, have you forgot Smith?"

"Smith!" cried I, looking earnestly in his face. "Why so it is. How
came you here?"

"I left Dublin three days ago," replied he; "but how I came here into
this house, is one of the strangest things that ever occurred. I was
walking over the common, when a tall handsome woman looked at me, and
said, `Young man, if you will go into the third public-house you pass,
you will meet an old friend, who expects you.' I thought she was
laughing at me; but as it mattered very little in which house I passed
the night, I thought, for the fun of the thing, I might as well take her
advice."

"How strange!" cried Melchior, "and she told him the same--that is, he
would meet a friend."

"Strange--very strange--wonderful--astonishing!" was echoed from all
quarters, and the fame of the gipsy was already established.

Timothy and I sat down together, conversing as old friends, and Melchior