“The fortune-teller might easily have guessed all that.  Most girls are married as young as that.”

“But not to tall, light-complexioned men!” said Wilbur triumphantly.

“Is there anything you wish particularly to know?” asked Phil.

“I should like to know if I am going to marry—­you know who.”

“The daisy?”

“Yes.”

Phil was not much in favor of the scheme, but finally agreed to it.

There was a certain “Veiled Lady,” who advertised her qualifications in the Herald, as the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, and therefore gifted with the power to read the future.  Mr. Wilbur made choice of her, and together they went to call upon her one evening.

They were shown into an anteroom, and in due time Mr. Wilbur was called into the dread presence.  He was somewhat nervous and agitated, but “braced up,” as he afterward expressed it, and went in.  He wanted Phil to go in with him, but the attendant said that madam would not allow it, and he went forward alone.

Fifteen minutes afterward he re-entered the room with a radiant face.

“Have you heard good news?” asked Phil.

Mr. Wilbur nodded emphatically and whispered, for there were two others in waiting: 

“It’s all right.  I am to marry her.”

“Did the fortune-teller say so?”

“Yes.”

“Did she give her name?”

“No, but she described her so that I knew her at once.”

“Will it be soon?” asked Phil slyly.

“Not till I am twenty-four,” answered Mr. Wilbur soberly.  “But perhaps she may be mistaken about that.  Perhaps she thought I was older than I am.”

“Do you doubt her knowledge, then?”

“No; at any rate, I can wait, since she is to be mine at last.  Besides, I am to be rich.  When I am thirty years old I am to be worth twenty thousand dollars.”

“I congratulate you, Wilbur,” said Phil, smiling.  “You are all right, at least.”

“The next gentleman!” said the attendant.

Phil entered the inner room, and looked about him in curiosity.

A tall woman sat upon a sort of throne, with one hand resting on a table beside her.  A tall wax-taper supplied the place of the light of day, which was studiously excluded from the room by thick, dark curtains.  Over the woman’s face was a black veil, which gave her an air of mystery.

“Come hither, boy!” she said, in a clear, commanding voice.

Phil advanced, not wholly unimpressed, though he felt skeptical.

The woman bent forward, starting slightly and scanned his face eagerly.

CHAPTER XV.

Phil and the fortune-teller.

“Do you wish to hear of the past or the future?” asked the fortune-teller.

“Tell me something of the past,” said Phil, with a view of testing the knowledge of the seeress.