"Needn't curl your lip; you are soon to have a fever and lose all your pretty hair. When you're twelve and some odd, your father'll die, and the next year your mother'll die too. You're one of them that considers every rain-storm nothing but a clearing-off shower; but you'll find one storm that won't clear off. You'll near about come nigh starving, miss. It's an awful way to die; but you won't die so. You'll be bit by a rattlesnake, and won't live a day after you're sixteen year old." Grace tried to laugh. "Come, girls," said she, "let's go." "You're an awful unlucky child," cried the gypsy, pointing her finger at Grace, who did not look quite humble enough yet. "You're very _peart_ now; but trouble's coming: now you mark my words." So saying, the crazy woman arose to enter the house; but as she saw the smoke still clouding the air, a new freak seized her bewildered brain. She quite forgot her character of fortune-teller, and shouted aloud, "I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness. Tell me one thing before I have you, little army of grasshoppers: what did John Baptist do with the locusts? Did he eat 'em raw, or did he smoke and roast 'em?" Then with "tinsel-slippered" feet, the gypsy entered the house, and closed the door. The girls heard a shout of wild laughter. Could it be from the gypsy? They started with one accord, and ran till they were out of breath. "Where are the baskets with our picnic?" cried Diademia, suddenly pausing. "Under one of the 'simmon-trees," replied Lucy Lane, who was a natural housekeeper, and had carefully collected the scattered baskets, and put them together in what she considered a safe place. Now, who would dare go for them? Tho girls were hungry, but they were also in a panic. Who could it be that had laughed so wildly? How did they know that the strange creature might not spring out upon them, and drag them into her den? Grace at last summoned courage, and the girls followed her, hoping that nothing dreadful could happen to any one but Grace, after such excellent fortunes. They went to the persimmon-trees, but found no baskets. Lucy, usually timid and irresolute, was firm enough in this case. She had placed the baskets under a certain tree; but they were not there now, neither could they be found. "Magic!" murmured Di. "I wonder," said Grace, "if they've been magicked off? What if I go ask our gypsy?" She stepped cautiously along towards the house. "Gracie Clifford, you don't dare." "How do you know that, Isa?" "Don't go," whispered the girls, crouching together behind the trees. They were divided in their minds between superstitious terror and sharp hunger. Grace's eyes were flashing with strong excitement. She was as much frightened as any of the others; but a spirit of desperation had seized her, and she walked up to the house and entered it in spite of the feeble remonstrances of the girls.