“I wonder how they can tell,” said Eugenia.

“By the lines in their hands.  It is as plain as the alphabet to some people.  They can tell how long you’re going to live, whether you’ll be married or not, and what sort of a future you’re to have.  They say that there are some lines in your hand that mean wealth, and some health, and there are stars for success and crosses for losses and all sorts of signs.”

“Oh, how interesting!” cried Betty, again pausing in her story, and spreading out her little brown hands, to examine them, Eugenia held up one of her slim palms, and studied it intently, tracing the lines with a tapering white forefinger.

“Here’s a star in my hand,” she cried, excitedly, “and all sorts of queer lines and marks that I never noticed before.  I wonder which is the marriage line.  Oh, girls, I’m just wild to have my fortune told.  Let’s ride down to the camp before lunch.”

“Costs too much,” said Joyce, holding her sketch off at arm’s length and studying the effect through half-shut eyes.  “Rob Moore said that his brother Edward went over to the camp with a party, several nights ago, and they had to pay a dollar apiece.  That bars me out, for dollars don’t grow on bushes at my house.  Besides, Bob said his brother said that they are not real gypsies.  The people around here think they are a set of strolling horse thieves.  Mister Edward says that the old woman looks like a Florida cracker, and talks like one too, but she vows that she is the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter and was born on the banks of the Nile.”

“That settles it!” cried Eugenia, “I am going.”  She turned the sparkling rings on her finger and watched them reflect the light as she spoke.  “We’ll all go.  It will be my treat.  I haven’t touched my allowance since I’ve been here, and papa gave me ten dollars more than usual this month.  There isn’t any place to spend money here but at the grocery and meat shop, and it’s burning a hole in my purse.  Only four dollars for all of us.  That isn’t very much.”

“Only four dollars,” thought Betty, lifting startled eyes, and thinking of the five nickels with which she had set forth on her journey.  It seemed a fortune.

“Say that you will go,” insisted Eugenia.  “I’ll think you’re mean things if you don’t, for it will give me more pleasure to take you than anything I can possibly think of.”

“Yes, I’ll be glad to go,” said Joyce.  “It is awfully sweet of you to stand treat, Eugenia.”

“I think so, too,” exclaimed Betty, adding her thanks.  Joyce rose, gathering up her sketching materials.

“Are you going to the house?” asked Eugenia.  “Then ask Lloyd if she won’t send word to Alec to saddle the ponies, and tell her we want her to take a short ride with us before lunch.  Don’t say where we are going.  We’ll surprise her.”

“All right,” answered Joyce, moving off down the path.

“And Joyce,” called Eugenia after her, “please tell Eliot to brush my hat and put some new laces in my boots.  I’ll be there by the time the ponies are at the house.  Don’t you think it will be fun?” she added, turning to Betty, when they were left alone.  In the role of Lady Bountiful she felt very friendly and gracious.