Saturday "evening" came, clear and cloudless; and at two o'clock the girls met by appointment. Did Grace Clifford feel no twinges of conscience when her kind mother packed a basket with dainties, and kissed her good by? Did she think the queen of the Ruby Seal had a right to keep such secrets from such a mother? Ah, this was not the conduct one might expect from a little girl who reads two chapters in the Bible every day. It is to be feared, however, that Grace only tripped carelessly over her task, instead of studying the Best of Books with real attention. After much chatting and laughing, and losing their way a few times in the "green gloom of the woods," the girls reached a settlement in the country called "Small's Enlargement," passed a romantic log church, and came in sight of the fortune-teller's dwelling, an unpainted cottage snuggled in among gooseberry-bushes, tulip-trees, scrub-oaks, persimmon, and Judas-trees. The tenement was owned by Mr. Harrington, Isa's father, but was so sadly out of repair that no respectable person would rent it; and it was usually occupied only by rats, or for a short time in the summer by some wandering family. Grace pulled something which seemed to be the remains of a door-knob; but if it was connected with a bell, the bell was certainly tongue-tied, for it would not ring. "Let's walk right in," said Grace, lifting the latch. Like many Western houses, this cottage had no front hall, and you stepped at once into the parlor. The girls were greeted by a dense cloud of smoke, which quite filled the room. Grace fancied for a moment that this strange woman had been invoking some sort of a spell with the aid of magic, and looked about her, half expecting to see "black spirits and white" floating in the air. But if spirits there were, they could not be discerned through the smoke, which was pouring out through the acorn-shaped stove in the corner. The occupant of the room did not come forward to greet her guests, but said in a low tone, as if muttering to herself, "Whatever is to be will be! Can't help your fate! As well go set an army of grasshoppers to fighting against the United States army! Yes, go set 'em to fighting, I tell you." This singular speech startled everybody. Poor Lucy Lane trembled, and caught fast hold of Grace's hand, while Grace, for her part, felt, as she had declared she should feel, ready to laugh, though partly from nervousness. The strange hostess glared at Grace in silence, but with much displeasure, and very likely from that moment marked out for her a dark future.