This mysterious woman was dressed in a half barbaric costume. She had on a garment which resembled a coat, only the sleeves were loose and flowing, like those of a lady's dress. She wore Turkish drawers of green calico, gathered into a band at the ankle, and her feet blazed with red slippers, brilliantly adorned with "gold spangles." Over her shoulders she now threw a loose robe, like a cloak, made of scarlet moreen, for all the world like a pulpit curtain, down which dangled two huge tassels. By the time this robe of state had been carefully adjusted, the gypsy came forward and welcomed her visitors. Isa she patted on the shoulder with much cordiality, shook hands with Judith Pitcher and Lucy Lane, but passed by Grace with only a glance. The old crone's face was as strange as her dress. Her eyes were intensely black and bright; they seemed to have burned out the rest of her face, which was very thin and haggard. These wild eyes sank far into her head, "like birds' nests under the eaves of a house." To crown all, she wore a fierce turban of soiled white lace. Altogether, she was weird-looking enough to frighten a person of tolerably strong nerves. Well for the more timid of the little girls if they should escape from her with no worse effects than horrible dreams! "Well, my pretty dears," said she at last, "what can I do for you? Whatever is to be will be! We're nothing but a handful of grasshoppers! Do you dare to have me tear down the _mountainious_ veil of futurity?" It seemed necessary to make some reply. "Yes,'m," said two or three of the girls, in tremulous tones. "Please, may I raise the window, ma'am?" said Grace. The fortune-teller deigned no reply, but went on talking as if to herself:-- "The proper and true way to cure smoke, is to start a roaring fire, then pour on salt and water, and the steam will choke out the smoke. There are," continued she in the same tone, "some children of this generation who think they know more than their betters; but they never'll set the river afire. Now, you mark my words, such knowing children never'll set the river afire." The smoke growing worse, Isabel proposed that they should hear their fortunes out of doors. The gypsy readily consented, for from the first she had looked upon Isabel with a friendly eye. The truth was, she remembered the little girl's babyhood, and had often held her in her arms, though of this Isa knew nothing. Seated on a rude bench under the budding trees, the little girls and their dark hostess formed a picturesque group. All hearts beat high with awe and curiosity, as the gypsy drew out from the folds of her scarlet robe a pack of soiled cards, "shuffled" them with much deliberation, and passed them to Isabel, saying, "Tell me, young miss, shall I predicate your fortune by astrology, by cards, or by the lines on the palm of your hand?" Isa looked at the other girls, hoping for advice in this important matter. "What _would_ you do, Gracie?"