e seriously. During the holidays she had studied the
subject by the aid of books borrowed from the Free Library.

"I should like just to go and have a look at these gipsies," she
added. "Will you come with me?"

She voiced the feelings of the others. They rose with one accord, and
went in the direction of the cow-shed. They met Cynthia Greene and
Elsie Moseley coming out, half-awed, half-giggling. At the sight of
monitresses they dived round the corner of the building, and escaped
into the orchard.

"It's certainly our duty to investigate," propounded Meta.

It is pleasant when duty and inclination coincide. The girls walked
forward briskly. The interior of the cow-house was dark as an Eastern
temple. The gipsies had established themselves in the dimmest corner,
and were squatting on bundles of straw under a manger. Obviously they
were extremely dirty and dilapidated. Their hands and faces appeared
to be unacquainted with soap and water, their clothes were tattered,
their shoes seemingly in the last stage of decrepitude.

"Tell your fortunes, my pretty ladies?" pattered one of the Romanys.
Her voice was hoarse but conciliatory. Possibly she had a cold--tents
are notoriously draughty sleeping-places.

"We don't care about vulgar fortunes, we are really interested,"
commenced Veronica. "What we'd like to know is how you get your
powers. Where does your knowledge of the future come from? I've always
wanted to ask this."

The gipsy woman shook her head pityingly.

"Ah, lady! We don't know ourselves! It comes to us suddenly. Like a
flash of light we see your future--then it fades. It's a sixth sense
that's given to the poor gipsies. They're born with it, and they can't
explain it any more than you can explain the breath of your body."

"I've often heard of this sixth sense," whispered Daphne to Lois.

"Sometimes we feel what's going to be, and sometimes we see it,"
continued the gipsy, fumbling with something in her lap. "We can't
tell beforehand which way the knowledge will come."

"What's that you've got there?" asked Veronica sharply. "Is it a
crystal?"

"You're right, lady. It is a crystal, and a wonderful one too. My
grandmother got it from--but no! I'd best not be telling that. I
wouldn't part with it, lady, if the Queen offered me her crown in
exchange. Take it in your hand! Look how it sparkles! It doesn't often
shine like that--only when someone with the sixth sense holds it."

"I've sometimes suspec