CHAPTER VII

THE FORTUNE TELLER

Next morning Patty and Maude had a cosy little breakfast in the latter’s apartment, and then, arrayed in her riding habit, Patty went down, to find Channing waiting for her on the veranda.

“Good morning, M’lle Farini,” he said gaily, “ready for a ride? Come along with us, won’t you, Maude?”

“No, thank you, Chick. I’m not altogether certain that Patty’s friends will forgive this performance and I’d be afraid to see them. But, oh, I can’t tell you both what it has meant to me, and I do hope you’ll have no cause to regret it.”

“Not a bit of it! I’ll fix it up all right,” and Chick looked very big and powerful. “If anybody goes for Patty, he’ll hear from me! See?”

“But I do want to see you again, Maude,” said Patty, as they bade farewell. “Shall you be here long?”

“Only two or three days, at most. I have another concert here tomorrow night, but I’m sure of my artists for that. Do ride over again, both of you.”

“We will,” promised Channing, and then the two cantered away.

* * * * *

“Here they come!” cried Daisy, as from the porch of Freedom Castle she spied the two equestrians.

Jim Kenerley was at the block to help Patty alight, and as she ran up the steps, Adele clasped her in a welcoming embrace.

“You dear child!” she said. “What an experience you have had. Sit down here and tell us all about it.”

So Patty told the whole story, exactly as it had happened, and Channing added details here and there.

Everybody was interested and asked all sorts of questions.

“Is it a nice hotel?” asked Mona. “Did you have any fun after the concert?”

“There was dancing,” said Patty, “but I was too scared, when people called me M’lle Farini, to enjoy it much. I wanted to get away. I’m glad I did it for Miss Kent, but—never again!”

“If she’s the Maude Kent I once knew, you had no business to have anything to do with her,” put in Farnsworth, in a gruff voice.

“She’s the Miss Kent Chick Channing knows, and that’s enough for me!” retorted Patty, and a little pink spot showed in either cheek, a sure sign that she was annoyed.

“Well, shall we go to the hermit’s?” said Elise, anxious to avert the impending scene. “What _do_ you think, Patty, Kit has a toothache, and can’t go, after all.”

“Toothache!”

“Yes, a bad ulceration. He sent down word by Bobbink, that pet bellboy of his, that we were to go on without him. The boy will show us the way.”

“How ridiculous! Why not wait till tomorrow?”

“No, Kit says the hermit man expects us and we must go. You’ll go along, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course. Shall I change this rigging,—or go as I am?”

“Go as you are. It’s time we were off. Roger and Mona have gone on ahead, but as they went in the opposite direction, I am not sure they’ll get there before we do.”

“Those two have a fancy for going in the opposite direction,” laughed Patty; “ever notice it?”

“Not being stone blind, I have,” Elise admitted, and really the interest Roger and Mona had for each other became more apparent each day.

The Kenerleys declined to go on the hermit expedition, saying that they knew their “fortune,” and had no reason for questioning the future. So the others started.

Channing took possession of Patty, and merely saying “which way?” he led her across the wide lawn to the indicated path through the wood.

Elise followed, with Bob Peyton, who greatly admired the pretty New York girl. Farnsworth and Daisy Dow brought up the rear of the procession, and Bobbink, the ever useful courier, showed the way.

“Mr. Cameron says for you to do jes’ wot I says,” he announced, evidently greatly pleased at his position of power.

“Go ahead, Bobbink,” said Bill; “show us the way, but don’t talk too much.”

“Yassir. Dis way, ladies an’ gempmun.”

It was a beautiful walk, through the Autumn sunshine and forest shade. Now they crossed a tiny brook or paused to admire a misty waterfall, and again they found a long stretch of good State road.

And sooner than any one expected, they reached the shack.

“Dat’s de place,” announced Bobbink, and stood, pointing to the dilapidated shanty at the side of the road.

“Who’ll go in first?” asked Patty; “I’m scared.”

“I’m not,” and Daisy stepped nearer and peered curiously in at the door.

“Come in, woman!” said a strange, cracked old voice, and there followed a laugh like a cackle. “Come in, each and all.”

Daisy pushed in and Farnsworth stepped in, too, for he didn’t altogether like the sound of that laugh. Then they all crowded in and saw the old hermit, sitting in a hunched-up position on a pile of rugs in the corner of the hut.

“Which one first?” he muttered; “which pretty lady first? All have fortunes, wonderful fortunes coming to them.”

The old man’s garb was somewhat like that of a monk. A dingy robe was girdled with a hempen rope, and a cowl-shaped hood fell well over his brow. His face was brown and seamed and wrinkled with age, and he wore queer-looking dark glasses. On his hands were old gloves that had once been white, but were now a dingy grey, and he seemed feeble, and unable to move without difficulty.

But he was alert, doubtless spurred by the hope of getting well paid.

“You go first, Daisy,” said Patty; “then we’ll see how it works.”

“All right, I’m not afraid,” and Daisy extended her palm to the old man.

“Here, wait!” she cried; “don’t touch me with those dirty old gloves! Can’t I wrap my handkerchief round my hand?”

The hermit made no objection, and Daisy wound a fresh handkerchief about her fingers, leaving the palm exposed for the seer to read.

He began, in a droning voice:

“Pretty lady, your home is far away. You are not of this end of the country, but off toward the setting sun. You will return there soon, and there you will meet your fate. He awaits you there, a man of brain and brawn,— a man who has ambition to become the mayor of——”

“Hush!” cried Daisy, snatching her hand away from his gloved fingers; “Don’t you say another word! That’s a secret! I don’t want any more fortune! That man’s a wizard!”

Daisy moved across the room, putting all the distance possible between her and the seer. With startled eyes, she gazed at him, as at a world wonder.

“Pooh! That was a chance shot, Daisy,” said Elise. “Let me try, I’ve no secrets that I’m afraid he’ll reveal.”

Nor was she afraid of the grimy old glove, but put her finger tips carelessly into the old fellow’s hand.

“Pretty lady heart-whole,” declared the hermit. “Some day pretty lady fall in love, but not today. Some ’nother day, too! Pretty lady marry twice, two times! Ha, ha!”

“Silly!” said Elise, blushing a little, as she withdrew her hand. “I hate fortune telling. Next.”

Patty, a little reluctantly, surrendered her hand to the seer, who took it lightly in his own. “Pretty lady all upset,” he began. “So many suitors, all want pretty lady. But the fates have decree! The lady must marry with the—” he drew his hand across his eyes,—“I cannot see clearly! I see a cat! Ha, no! I have it! the pretty lady must marry with the Kit, ha, yes; the Kit!”

“Good gracious!” exclaimed Patty, laughing, “have I really got to marry Kit! Kit who?”

“That the wizard cannot tell. Only can I read the name Kit. It is written in the lady’s fate.”

“But s’pose I don’t want to? S’pose I don’t like Kit as much as somebody else?”

“That makes nothing! It is fate. It may not be denied.”

“Well, all right. But I don’t care so much about my future husband. He’s a long way off. Tell me what will happen to me before he arrives.”

“Many adventures. You will today receive a letter——”

“Goodness, I get letters every day! Any particular letter?”

“Yes, a letter from one you love.”

“Ah, Daddy, I expect.”

“Nay, ’tis a younger man than your honourable parent. Then, soon the pretty lady will inherit fortune.”

“Now, that’s more interesting. Big fortune?”

“Oh,—my, yes! Large amount of moneys! And a journey,—a far journey.”

“I don’t care about the journey. Tell me more about the fortune. Who will leave it to me? Not my father, I hope.”

“Nay, no near relative.”

“That’s good; I don’t want my people to die. Well, anything more, Mister Hermit?”

“Beware of a dark lady——”

“Now I know you’re the real thing!” and Patty laughed merrily. “I’ve been waiting for the ‘dark lady’ and the ‘light-complected gentleman’ who always figure in fortunes. Well, what about the dark lady?”

“If the pretty miss makes the fun, there is no more fortune for her,” said the hermit, sulkily.

“I don’t mind, so long as you don’t take the money away.”

“Tell mine, then,” said Channing, as Patty resigned her place.

“You, sir, are an acrobat. You were employed in the Big Circus, the Hop—Hippodrome. When they discharged you, it was but temporary. Do not fear, you will regain your position there.”

“Why, you old wiz! How did you know that!” and Channing stared in pretended amazement; “I thought that episode in my career was a dead secret!”

“No episodes are secrets to me,” declared the hermit. “Shall I tell further?”

“No, I guess that will be about all,” and Channing moved quickly away from the strange old man.

Bob Peyton declined to have his past exposed to the public gaze; and he said he didn’t care to know what the future held for him, he’d far rather be surprised at his life as it happened. So Bill Farnsworth was the next to test the wizard’s powers.

“Big man,” said the hermit, solemnly, as he scanned the broad palm Bill offered for inspection. “Big man, every way; body, heart, soul,—all.”

“Thanks,” said Farnsworth, “for the expansive if ambiguous compliment. Be a little more definite, please. What am I going to have for dinner today? Answer me that, and I’ll believe in your wizardry.”

“Big man is pleased to be sarcastic. The hermit does not waste his occult powers on foolish questions. In a few hours you will know what you will have for dinner. Why learn now?”

“Why, indeed? All right, old chap, tell me something worth while, then.”

“That will I, sir! I’ll tell you your fate in wedlock. You will yet wed a lovely lady, who, like your noble self, is of the Western birth. She is——”

“Drop it, man! Never mind what she is! Let me tell you what you are! Friends, behold Mr. Kit Cameron!” With a swift movement, Farnsworth drew off the old gloves from the hand that held his, and exposed the unmistakable slim white hands of the musician, Kit.

“Oh, you fraud!” cried Patty. “I half suspected it all the time!”

“I didn’t,” exclaimed Daisy. “You fooled me completely!”

“Oh, my fortune!” wailed Elise. “Where are those two lovely fates of mine?”

“And all my money!” groaned Patty. “I feel as if you had misappropriated my funds, Kit.”

It had not been necessary further to remove Cameron’s disguise, it was enough to see his hands, and hear his merry laugh.

“Hist!” cried Peyton, who had looked out along the road. “Here come Roger and Mona. Let’s give them a song and dance.”

Kit drew on his old gloves again, and huddled into his crouched posture, just as the two came in at the hut’s door.

“Just in time!” said Channing. “We’ve all had our fortunes told and were just about to go home. Take your turn now.”

“I don’t like to,” said Mona, who was looking very happy and was blushing a little.

Keen-eyed Kit spied this. “Pretty lady,” he began, in his droning tones, and as he also had a slight knowledge of ventriloquism, he most effectually disguised his own voice, “give me your little hand.”

“Go on, Mona, we all did,” said Patty, and wonderingly, Mona held out her hand.

“Never saw I the future so plainly revealed!” declared the seer. “’Tis written as in letters of fire! Lady, thy fate is sealed. It is bound up with that of a true and noble knight, a loving soul, a faithful comrade. I see the blush that mantles your rosy cheek, I see the trembling of your lily hand, I see the drooped eyelashes that veil your dancing eyes, and I see, stretching far into the future, years of happiness and joy.”

Kit released Mona’s hand, and the girls crowded round her.

“What does he mean?” Daisy cried; “he spoke so in earnest.”

“Stay!” and the seer raised his hand. “Now will I tell the fortune of the noble gentleman who but now arrived. Your hand, fair sir.”

“Rubbish!” said Roger, disinclined for the performance.

“Go on, Farry,” said Farnsworth, smiling. “We all did. Go ahead.”

Roger gave over his hand, and the hermit rocked back and forth in glee. “Another clear writing of the fates!” he exclaimed. “I read of a happy future with the loved one. I read that only just now, within the hour, has the Fair said ‘yes’ to repeated pleadings, and the betrothal took place,——”

“Oh, I say!” and Roger tried to pull his hand from the hermit’s grasp.

“’Tis a fair tale I read,” went on the wizard, holding fast the hand he read; “two young hearts, made for each other, plighted by the singing brook—in the balmy sunshine—in a bower of roses by Bendemeer’s stream—oh, hang it, old chap, let me be the first to congratulate you!”

Kit flung off his cowl with one hand, while with the other he gripped Roger’s in a man-to-man grasp, and shook it heartily.

Then there was a small-sized pandemonium! The girls fell on Mona, kissing her and asking questions, while the men joined hands in a sort of war dance round Roger. Then they all made a circle round the engaged pair, and sang “Oats, Peas, Beans, and Barley Grows,” with the zest of a crowd of children.

“Perfectly gorgeous! I think,” cried Patty, as the excitement calmed down a little. “I sort of hoped it would be so, but I didn’t expect it quite so soon.”

“Neither did I,” said Mona, shyly: “but, you see——”

“Oh, yes, we see,” said Kit. “The picturesque spot,—the murmuring brook,—the whispering trees,—why, of course, you couldn’t help it! Bless you, my children! and now, I want somebody to go out and get engaged to me. Who will volunteer?”

“Not today, Kit,” said Patty, laughing. “Let troubles come singly for once. Today for this, tomorrow for yours. Come on, people, I can’t wait to get home and tell Adele!”