Then, too, when Mrs. Bonnell had finished with her fortune, in which, truth to tell, she was not much interested, a young man, handsome enough in his Gypsy fashion, hurried into the camp. He strode into the tent of Neezar, the Queen, before Mrs. Bonnell had fished the change out of her net purse, and began an excited utterance in some unknown tongue—probably the Gypsy argot—which sounded like Bohemian. “Cha!” was the only word the old Gypsy uttered, but it was enough and sent the abashed young man out of the tent in a hurry, his flow of talk ceasing. “Their everlasting quarrels—what have I to do with them? They are ever at me to settle their disputes!” exclaimed Neezar. “I will have none of it,” and she looked at Mrs. Bonnell shrewdly. “It was about a horse,” she needlessly explained. “The young men are much trouble.” “And you rule over them also,” asked the Guardian. “Yes, over all.” “And did Hadee dispute your authority?” It was a shrewd guess Mrs. Bonnell thought, for the aged Gypsy looked at her suspiciously. “What do you know of Hadee?” came the quick question. “Very little. She told the fortune of a friend of mine, and I thought I should like to have her tell my own.” “Perhaps she will—when she comes back,” replied the Queen, and Mrs. Bonnell thought there was a twinkle in the deep-set eyes. “Hadee told fortunes very well.” “Would hers be any different from the one you have told me?” “How could it—your fortune is your fortune—always the same. No one can change it, though one person might reveal more than another—perhaps reveal more than would be good for you. You have suffered—I can see it. You have had a loss.” That was evident, for Mrs. Bonnell, in spite of the fact that she had laid aside black for the attire of the Camp Fire Girls, while in the woods, still kept her jet earrings and the simple little black pin at her throat. It needed no prophetess to tell that she had suffered. “When do you think Hadee will come back?” asked the Guardian. “How can we tell? We Gypsies are not like you white folks, lady. We do strange things. We were born to wander and we wander. Doubtless Hadee will come back—when she chooses.” “Are her parents here?” “They are dead. Now I beg your pardon, but I must see to my camp. There is much to do, though we lead a simple life. Ah! the others have had their fortunes told,” and she opened the tent for her visitor who saw Natalie and the other girls emerging from the other little canvas houses, gaudily decorated, and painted with the various names of the “Princesses” who deigned, for a small piece of silver, to tear aside the curtain of the future. Mrs. Bonnell saw Neezar hurry over to the young man who had shown such excitement, and then the Guardian went up to Natalie, about whom the other girls clustered. “Tell us what she said, Nat,” urged Mabel. “It wasn’t anything—really.” “Did she tell you how soon you were going to get married?” “I never am!”