them.

They had not long to wait--in fact they had barely had time to settle
themselves in the comfortable chairs, when along the road came--not the
boys, but a ragged, bent, old woman, leaning heavily on a twisted stick
for support. Instead of going straight on, as the girls had expected
she would do, the old woman turned in at the drive and made straight for
them.

"What shall we do? Shall we go in the house?" whispered Grace to Betty.
"I don't like her looks very much, do you?"

"She isn't particularly beautiful," Betty telegraphed back. "But she
can't possibly do us any harm. Let's wait and see what she has to say."

As the old hag drew nearer, the girls instinctively shrank back in their
chairs. And, indeed, she was not a prepossessing figure. Her head was
bound about with an old red handkerchief, tied under the wrinkled chin
and framing a face seamed and crisscrossed with a million wrinkles. An
old, tattered shawl covered her bent shoulders, and the hand that
grasped the knotted stick was claw-like and emaciated. Her eyes were the
only part of her that seemed to retain some semblance of youth. They
were little and beady and exceedingly keen, so that when she raised them
to Betty's young face, that staunch little captain felt that she would
almost rather be anywhere else than there beneath the trees with the
searching eyes of the old crone fixed upon her.

"What do you want?" Betty gasped, trying to make her voice calm and
steady, but with little success.

"I won't hurt you, pretty ladies," said the old woman, divining their
repugnance and half-fear and desiring to placate them. "Won't you have
your fortunes told? Only twenty-five cents, and I can tell you of your
past and as much as you will of your future. Only a quarter, pretty
ladies."

Betty glanced inquiringly at the other girls, but they shook their heads
decidedly--the mumbling old crone was getting on their nerves.

"Not to-day," said Betty, as kindly as she could. "We are expecting
company and we haven't time. Some other time perhaps."

"Some other day may be too late," said the old crone, leeringly. "Oh,
yes, you will have all the time there is to be miserable in. And you
will be! You will be! The curse be on you for refusing an old woman like
me the price of her bread!" and she hobbled down the long drive
muttering to herself and stopping once to shake her fist at the startled
girls.

"Oh, did you ever!" Mollie exclaimed. Just then there wa