rls need you with them."

Jack moved off obediently and discovered Olive having her fortune told.
She was kneeling before the old gypsy with one hand resting in the
woman's wrinkled palm.

"You are not one of these little missies. You are of another brood and
another fortune," the old crone announced calmly. "I don't say I am able
to place you, but you don't rightly belong here."

Olive's cheeks flushed indignantly and she dropped her lids quickly over
her surprised eyes. "I don't see why you think I am different from the
others. I _am_ one of the ranch girls," she exclaimed earnestly.

The fortune teller smiled and lightly ran one aged finger around the
line of Olive's delicately pointed chin and about her long,
almond-shaped black eyes. "I don't _think_ you are different, child; I
_know_ it," she replied sternly. "It ain't no use to try to deceive me.
I can see, too, that life ain't going to be a bed of roses for you. Some
one is standing near us right now who is going to exercise a strong
influence over your fate. Many times she will help you to happiness, but
once she will cause you great sorrow. She may never know it, for you
will never tell her, but remember--I warn you--'years alone will wipe
away your tears.'"

The gypsy lifted her small, black, haunting eyes with as calm an
assurance as though she had been one of the three ancient sisters of
fate and stared long and imperiously at Jacqueline Ralston. Jack bit her
lips and returned the woman's gaze steadfastly.

"If you mean that I shall ever bring sorrow upon my friend, you are very
much mistaken," she protested defiantly, putting her arm lovingly about
Olive. "If you intend to make up such hateful and untrue stories you
shan't tell any more of her fortune."

But the gypsy gave not the slightest heed to Jack's remonstrance; making
a weird sign across the palm of Olive's hand the old woman mumbled a
verse of poetry, the girls straining forward to hear:

"'Criss, cross, shadow and loss;
Shrouded in mystery,
The first of your history!
Here there is light, there dark once again.
Happiness comes, but after it pain--
Yet your name shall be found and a fortune untold
Shall make for your feet a rich pathway of gold.'"

Olive smiled tremulously, drawing away her hand. "I don't believe I care
to have my future foretold in poetry," she protested. "Won't you tell
Miss Ralston hers? Perhaps you may give her a better fate."

Th