"Well, a funny mix-up followed, in which we each tried to get possession of the spoon and the jam. We were laughing while we struggled for it, but at last, one of us slipped, and fell, dragging the other down; the jar of jam tipped over, and her white frock, my gray jacket and trousers, and even my long, yellow curls became smeared with the jam. "Nurse opened the door, and screamed with terror, for the red jam looked as if we had been terribly hurt, and it was some time before we could convince her that we were not cut or bruised, but only _very sticky_! "Then came the scolding, and my sister tried to screen me. "'Harry couldn't help tasting it, he's so fond of jam,' she said. "'Well, he's got a good share of it, inside and out,' said nurse, grimly. "'She's got as much as I have,' I said, 'just look at her frock!' "Of course our clothes were changed, and the jam cleaned from the polished floor, but we had our tea without jam. "Nurse said we could eat our biscuits with the _memory_ of the jam we had already enjoyed." "Oh, Uncle Harry," cried Flossie, "I wish, even though you were naughty, she'd let you have more jam. She didn't know how good you'd be when you grew up." "I still am fond of jam!" he said, and the children laughed to see him pour honey over his berries that already were covered with sugar. "You like _anything_ that's sweet!" said Dorothy, "whether it's jam, or sugar, or honey,--" "Or little girls," said Uncle Harry. "You notice, I made this party all little girls, and I'm having a _lovely_ time." "So are we," laughed Dorothy. "And he says 'lovely' just as we do," said Nancy, "he does it to make us laugh." "Then why don't you laugh?" said Uncle Harry, and they _did_ laugh, every member of the party, and laughed because they could not help it. And when the merry feast was over, they hastened to the small tent where the old gypsy was telling fortunes. Each had intended to have her fortune told, and thus learn what the future held for her. To their great surprise, she flatly refused to tell any child's fortune, saying that she would only foretell events for "grown ups." The little girls were rather afraid of her, but Uncle Harry boldly offered his hand, saying: "Am I big enough to hear my fortune?" "No nonsense, young lad," she said, while the children dared not laugh. She bent over his palm for a moment, then she solemnly said: "You're a brave lad, and you need to be for you will fall in love with a girl who'll have red hair, and the temper that usually goes with it." "O dear!" sighed Uncle Harry. "Don't worry, young man," said the old gypsy, "because it will be some months before you marry." "Indeed," said Uncle Harry, "and what shall I do if the girl proves to have the temper you prophesy? Shall I try to calm her by holding her under a pump, or would you advise tying her until she feels less fiery?" "Young man, this is no laughing matter," was the sharp reply.