oking gratified.
"Laura Atkins' father presented me with a real Japanese tea-set that he
bought especially for me the last time he was in Japan. They are old
enough to have a history, too. I couldn't resist parading them to-night
in honor of the Sempers."

"Tell us about them, Elfreda," begged Patience Eliot. "I love to
hear----"

Patience never finished stating what she loved to hear. A sharp little
exclamation of "Look!" from Arline Thayer set all eyes gazing in the
direction of her indexing finger. Out of the darkness and into the
swaying gleam of the lanterns a black-robed figure, bent double with the
weight of years, hobbled its weird way toward the diners. From a
voluminous sable sleeve, a long thin hand projected itself, the wiry
fingers clutching a tall staff. The shifting glow of the lanterns played
fantastically upon the apparition's veiled head as, step by step, it
drew slowly nearer. An audible sigh of amazement, mingled with dread of
the unknown, swept the little company. Added to the unexpected
materialization of the seeress was the surprise of her costume. Fancy
had pictured her to them as the usual gypsy, garbed in a rainbow of
lively colors. This sinister vision, the cast of whose features a long
black veil entirely concealed, seemed to be a creation of the very
darkness itself. If pure uncanniness indicated occult power, then this
veiled prophetess of destiny must surely be an adept in her art.

CHAPTER VIII

UNVEILING THE PROPHETESS

"'Tis the Veiled Prophetess of Destiny," declaimed Elfreda with dramatic
intensity. "Excuse me, girls. I must conduct her to her grotto. If she
is not received with respectful ceremony, she is likely to hobble off to
other fields and leave us in the lurch. After all the pains I've taken
to insure her presence, I should hate to disappoint you at the last
minute."

"Where on earth did J. Elfreda manage to find her?" questioned Julia
Emerson. Distinct awe pervaded her tones.

Their gaze fixed upon the distinguished seeress, whom Elfreda was
solicitously piloting across the lawn to the grotto, no one answered
Julia's question. In fact, only one of their number was prepared to
reply to the query. Having taken the vow of silence, Miriam Nesbit's
tranquilly-composed features offered no sign of the significant
knowledge that lay behind them.

"Who will be the first to consult Amarna, the Seeress of the Seven
Veils?" intoned the now-returning Elfreda in solemn,