Rising, without waiting to catch any one’s eye, she slowly sauntered off with her little swaggering air, and mounting a mossy rock, and arranging herself in a picturesque attitude, despatched a cavalier for her banjo, which she presently began to thrum, and had soon (as she desired) collected a crowd. When she had assembled a sufficiently large audience, she struck up a nigger melody, with admirable art and liveliness, and instantly every male voice was joining in the chorus. Mrs. Langrishe and Mrs. Brande arrived together upon the scene, and beheld the sprightly Lalla, the centre of attraction, mounted on an impromptu throne, surrounded by admirers. Such moments were some of her unhappy aunt’s few compensations. Oh! if one of these admirers would but come forward and ask for the delicate, wiry little hand, now so skilfully thrumming a _ranche_ melody. The fair songstress made a charming picture, she had the family instinct for effect,--her supple figure was thrown into delightful relief by a dense green background, and one pretty little foot dangled carelessly over a slab of rock--such a pretty little foot, in such a pretty little shoe! And where was Mrs. Brande’s niece? Standing among the crowd, a mere spectator of her rival’s success. All at once Lalla suddenly handed her banjo to Sir Gloster, and said briskly-- “Now, who would like their fortunes told? Please don’t all speak together.” “Lalla is really marvellous,” whispered Mrs. Langrishe to her companion. “She has made quite a study of palmistry, and is most successful.” Mrs. Brande looked severely incredulous, but she could see that Lalla was now closely invested by a circle of outspread palms, and a clamouring crowd of would-be clients. (Some people declared that this accomplishment was merely an excuse on Miss Paske’s part for holding men’s hands, and that she knew absolutely nothing of the gipsy’s art, but was a shrewd judge of character, and made up cleverly as she went along.) Also another notable and highly suspicious fact--she invariably meted out the most alarming fortunes to those she did not like. She appeared to take a vindictive pleasure in calmly expatiating on their impending calamities, and made the most sinister announcements with a smile. At present she was examining Mrs. Brande’s hand, with a puckered, thoughtful brow. She had not time to do all the hands, she declared, and those she did undertake must be entirely of her own selection. “You have had an unexpected share of this world’s goods,” she stated at last, raising her voice, so that every syllable was audible. “You will always be well-to-do, but your present hopes will be disappointed. In the course of time, your life will undergo a change. You are threatened with softening of the brain--yes! your head line runs down upon the moon--you will probably be an incurable idiot, and bed-ridden for many years.”