“I—I seem to see a strange woman,” she muttered. “Perhaps it is his step-mother. It is possible that you will marry again, Mister.” “You’re off your base there, Queen,” said Mr. Baxter firmly. “It _ain’t_ possible.” “This is all humbug, Brother Baxter.” “A great deal more is being revealed to me by the light of the star, Mister,” urged the gypsy, now eager to give good measure. “Shall I go on?” “After what you said about me being likely to get married again, all I got to say is that I don’t believe a derned word of anything you’ve told me. That boy’s never going to have a step-mother unless he has a step-father first.” “You feel the same way about step-mothers that I do about brother-in-laws,” put in Mr. Sikes. “Go on, Queen,” commanded Mr. Baxter. “I see a great white house and a building with a huge dome upon it. Your son will sit in the halls of state, in the councils of his land. Ah, the vision grows dim again. It may mean that he will decline the greatest honor the people of this land could confer upon him.” “Oh, dear,” gulped Mrs. Grimes. “You don’t mean to say he will refuse to be President?” “It’s more likely he’ll be running on the Republican ticket,” said Mr. Gooch, grinning at Mr. Link. “Sh! How old is little Oliver by this time, Queen?” inquired Baxter. “I mean how far have you got him by now?” “He is nearing thirty. Rich, respected and admired. He will have many affairs of the heart. I see two dark women and—one, two—yes, three fair women.” Mrs. Sage sighed. “At last it begins to look like real trouble.” “That would seem to show that he’s going to be a purty good-looking sort of a feller, wouldn’t it?” said Baxter, proudly. “He will grow up to be the image of his father, Mister.” “Now she’s telling you the unpleasant things you were dreading, Oliver,” said Gooch. The gypsy leaned back in her chair, spreading her hands in a gesture of finality. “I see no more,” she said. “The light of the star has faded out. So! Are you not pleased?” “Is that all? Well, all I got to say is that you got a good deal of money for telling me something that I’ve been dreaming about for I don’t know how long.” Mrs. Gooch sniffed. “She’s just like all the rest of these thieving gypsies. They’re all frauds and liars. Telling fortunes and stealing children is all they know how to do. If I had my way, they’d all be locked up.” The two gypsies leaned forward, their hands close to the stove, their heads almost touching. There was nothing in their actions or manner to indicate that they heard the foregoing remarks. Nevertheless, they scowled unseen and there was evil in their black eyes. “Anybody could have told you all that she did, Oliver,” complained Mrs. Grimes, “but that wouldn’t make it true, would it? Three dollars and ten cents for all that rubbish!” “And they’ll be robbing your hen roost before morning, Baxter,” said Mr. Gooch.