“It is reasonable; but as you have to wait a fortnight longer in order to sail with me, I have taken that into account. Is it a bargain?” They struck hands; and Mr. Gregg, after drawing up an agreement, which Lyndsay signed, turned to Mrs. Lyndsay, and pressingly invited the whole party to spend the following afternoon with them in a friendly way. “My wife is a homely little body,” he said; “but she will do her best to make you comfortable, and will give you, at any rate, a hearty Scotch welcome.” “Now, Flora, are you not delighted in having it your own way?” said Lyndsay, after Mr. Gregg left them. “But let me assure you, my dear wife, you owe it entirely to the mean conduct of Mr. Peterson. I tell you frankly, that I would not have yielded my better judgment to a mere prejudice, even to please you.” “You are determined, John, that I shall never fulfil the gipsy’s prophecy.” “What was that?” “Did I never tell you that story, nor the girls either? for it was a standing joke against me at home for years. Oh, you must have it then. But be generous, and don’t turn it as a weapon against me:— “Some years ago, a gipsy woman came to our kitchen-door, and asked to see the young ladies of the house. Of course, we all ran out to look at the sybil, and hear her errand, which was nothing more nor less than to tell our fortunes. Partly out of curiosity, partly out of fun, we determined to have a peep into futurity, and see what the coming years had in store for us. We did not believe in gipsy craft. We well knew that, like our own, the woman’s powers were limited; that it was all guess-work; that her cunning rested in a shrewd knowledge of character,—of certain likings springing out of contrasts, which led her to match the tall with the short, the fair with the dark, the mild with the impetuous, the sensitive and timid with the bold and adventurous. On these seeming contrarieties the whole art of fortune-telling, as far as my experience goes, appears based. “Well, she gave husbands to us all—dark, fair, middle-complexioned, short and tall, amiable, passionate, or reserved—just the opposite of our own complexions or temperament, such as she judged them to be; and she showed a great deal of talent and keen perception of character in the choice of our mates. “In my case, however, she proved herself to be no prophet. I was to marry a sea-faring gentleman—a tall, black-eyed, passionate man—with whom I was to travel to foreign parts, and die in a foreign land. I was to have no children; and he was to be very jealous of me. ‘And yet, for all that,’ quoth the gipsy, drawing close up to me, and whispering in my ear, but not so low, but that all the rest heard her concluding speech, ‘you shall wear the breeches.’” “She did not bargain that you were to marry a Scotchman,” said Lyndsay, laughing.