until her four bony fingers had been spread in the air
above her. How it thrilled me! Something jumped to life in my soul at
the call of her moving hand. I passed a new gate of my imagination, I
fancy, and if I have a way of my own in telling things it began that
moment.

The woman turned with a kindly smile and sat down in the grass again and
took the sheet of paper and resting it on a yellow-covered book began to
write these words:

"I see the longing of the helper. One, two, three, four great
perils shall strike at him. He shall not be afraid. God shall fill
his heart with laughter. I hear guns, I hear many voices. His name
is in them. He shall be strong. The powers of darkness shall fear
him, he shall be a lawmaker and the friend of God and of many
people, and great men shall bow to his judgment and he shall--"

She began shaking her head thoughtfully and did not finish the sentence,
and by and by the notion came to me that some unpleasant vision must
have halted her pencil.

Aunt Deel brought some luncheon wrapped in paper and the old woman took
it and went away. My aunt folded the sheets and put them in her trunk
and we thought no more of them until--but we shall know soon what
reminded us of the prophet woman.

The autumn passed swiftly. I went to the village one Saturday with Uncle
Peabody in high hope of seeing the Dunkelbergs, but at their door we
learned that they had gone up the river on a picnic. What a blow it was
to me! Tears flowed down my cheeks as I clung to my uncle's hand and
walked back to the main street of the village. A squad of small boys
jeered and stuck out their tongues at me. It was pity for my sorrows, no
doubt, that led Uncle Peabody to take me to the tavern for dinner, where
they were assuaged by cakes and jellies and chicken pie.

When we came out of the tavern we saw Benjamin Grimshaw and his son Amos
sitting on the well curb. Each had a half-eaten doughnut in one hand and
an apple in the other. I remember that Mr. Grimshaw said in a scolding
manner which made me dislike him:

"Baynes, I'm glad to see you're so prosperous. Only the rich can afford
to eat in taverns. Our dinner has cost us just three cents, an' I
wouldn't wonder if I was worth about as much as you are."

My uncle made no reply and we passed on to a store nearly opposite the
well, where I became deeply interested in a man who had tapped me in the
stomach with his forefinger while he