"Of course," said Mary Donahue, not listening. "But--with eyes like yours"--she was studying Augusta out loud--"and with the look that comes in them at times--why, it'd be a shame not to--" She wheeled quickly and jumped up into the wagon. She came back with a bundle which she dropped on Augusta's lap. Out of it she shook a long flaming red veil which she wound quickly and bewilderingly around Augusta's head and shoulders. Wardwell looked on, a benign and philosophical spectator. It seemed that the gypsy girl had packed the wagon. Jimmie was wondering mildly if she had, perhaps, packed in a witch's cauldron, and a package or two of forked lightning, and a few snail's teeth. If so, he would look forward to an interesting summer. "Your hair's all wrong for a fortune teller, of course," Mary Donahue admitted. "But that don't make any difference--mine's worse, and I can make as much as the best of them. If it does you no good, it'll do you no harm," she grumbled as she felt Augusta's rising resistance. "You don't have to keep the money, you know. But always make them pay some money, anyway. Do you hear? Never tell a fortune without money to pay." She gave Augusta no time to answer but dove at the bundle again, unfolding a red board and breaking out on it a pack of cards. "You are a 'heart' woman," she said, continuing aloud her study of Augusta. "You are almost too light now, but you'll get darker, and you're married; that makes a difference." She laid the cards at Augusta's hand, commanding: "With your left hand, cut three piles towards your heart." Augusta gingerly lifted the cards as she was told. She was just a little frightened, but she would not protest or let Jimmie see that she felt it to be anything more than a joke. The gypsy gravely inspected the cards, top and bottom, of the three piles, and said nothing. Then she put them together and began dealing out from top and bottom into eight piles, a single card to each pile as she went. "To your house"--she named the piles as she laid down each card--"to yourself--to the one you love best--what you do expect--what you do not expect--sure to come true--this night--your wish." When she had dealt out all the cards in this way, she turned up the first pile and began to read: "_To your house_: there is love and good times, lots of fun making. You'll both still be laughing and taking fun out of it no matter what comes. It is all good, good!" She was kneeling at Augusta's side now. There was none of the air of mystery of the professional card reader. She had forgotten that she was giving Augusta a lesson. She was poring eagerly over the cards reading them swiftly as they came up to her, with all of a child's abandon in a game. "_To yourself_: there is shortness of money. You will be worried about money, not right away, maybe, but some time before very long. And a horse, a horse will be in a part of the worry.