"'Monday's child is fair of face. Tuesday's child is full of grace. Wednesday's child is loving and giving. Thursday's child works hard for a living. Friday's child is full of woe. Saturday's child has far to go. But the child that is born on Sabbath-day Is bonnie and happy, and wise and gay.'" "I say Thursday," said Tom, good-humouredly. "That's the most likely day for me." "I say Sabbath-day," said 'Melia Jane. "That won't fit," said Tom. "Happy? Yes. And gay, sometimes. But wise? No, no, 'Melia Jane; not a bit of it." But in argument Tom was a child in the hands of 'Melia Jane, and she generally succeeded in compelling him to subscribe to her views. She had a very effective method of punishment if he persisted in holding out. She was, in Tom's eyes, a very wonderful fortune-teller with the cards, and to have his fortune told half a dozen times a week became a perfect passion with him. Nothing pleased 'Melia Jane more than the opportunity of laying out the cards; but she could successfully resist the temptation when Tom was obstinate. It was in vain for him to implore; she was adamant. At length he would say, "I give in, 'Melia Jane; I give in." And out would come a very old and terribly thumbed pack, and with a solemn face Tom settled down to the onerous task of cutting the cards again and again, in accordance with 'Melia Jane's complicated instructions. It was not at all material that last night's fortune was diametrically opposite to the fortune of to-night; nor that last night it was a fair woman, and to-night a dark one; nor that last night Tom was to be greeted by a coffin, and to-night by a baby. The point was that the fortune was to be told, and that being done, no reference was made to inconsistencies and contradictions. 'Melia Jane and Tom would sit staring, open-mouthed, at the finger of fate, whose smudgy impress was to be found on every card in the pack. She was telling his fortune now, on the night before the production of _A Heart of Gold_. "The four of clubs, Tom. A strange bed." "Ah," said Tom. "I wonder where?" "The eight of spades. That's trouble, Tom." He pulled a long face. "And there's that dark woman, agin. Who _can_ she be?" "I wonder, now!" said Tom, turning over in his mind every dark woman whom he could call to remembrance. "Well!" cried 'Melia Jane. "Did you ever? Jest look, Tom. The ten of 'earts and the four of 'earts next door to each other. A wedding and a marriage bed. And if there ain't the seven and the six of spades! A doctor and a birth!" "Never!" exclaimed Tom, aghast. "Here it is. There's no going agin it. Oh, Tom! here's tears; and here's disappointment and sickness. Take care of that dark woman; she's up to no good." "Ain't she?" cried Tom, energetically. "I'll keep a sharp eye on her." The fortune being ended, the cards were put away in a drawer in the dresser, and 'Melia Jane proceeded to discuss lighter and less important matters. CHAPTER VI.