"Do please come in, Mr. Cardew. This is the height of good luck," said Mrs. Tristram, coming forward herself at this moment. "Won't you join my husband and me under the shadow of the tent yonder? The young people are having such a good time." "I will come for a minute or two," said Cardew, dismounting as he spoke. "Can some one hold Hector for me?" David was quickly summoned, and Mr. Cardew walked across the hay-field to where the hastily improvised tent was placed. "No one can enter here who doesn't submit to the will of the gipsy," remarked Caranina in her clear and beautiful voice. "This is my tent, and I tell the fortunes of all those kind ladies and gentlemen who will permit me to do so." "Then you shall tell mine, with pleasure, little maid," said Mr. Cardew, who felt wonderfully cheered and entertained at this _al fresco_ amusement. Quick as thought Maggie had been presented with a silver coin. With this she crossed the good gentleman's palm, and murmured a few words with regard to his future. There was nothing whatever remarkable in her utterance, for Maggie knew nothing of palmistry, and was only a very pretense gipsy fortune-teller. But she was quick--quicker than most--in reading character; and as she glanced now into Mr. Cardew's face an inspiration seized her. "He is troubled about something," thought the girl. "It's the thin end of the wedge; I'll push it in a little farther." Her voice dropped to a low tone. "I see in your hand, kind sir," she said, "all happiness, long life, and prosperity; but I also see a little cross, just here--" she pointed with her pretty finger--"and it means self-sacrifice for the sake of a great and lasting good. Kind sir, I have nothing more to add." Mr. Cardew left the tent and sat down beside the rector and his wife. Maggie's words were really unimportant. As one after the other the merry group of actors went to have their fortunes told he paid no attention whatever to them. Gipsy fortune-tellers always mixed a little sorrow with their joyful tidings. It was a bewitching little gipsy after all. He could not quite make out her undefined charm, but he was interested in her; and after a time, when the fortune-telling had come to an end and Maggie was about to change her dress for what they called the evening revels, he crossed the field and stood near her. "So you, Miss Howland, have been telling my daughter Merry a good many things with regard to your new school?" She raised her queer, bright eyes, and looked him full in the face. "I have told Merry a few things," she said; "but, most of all, I have assured her that Aylmer House is the happiest place in the world." "Happier than home? Should you say it was happier than home, Miss Howland?" "Happier than my home," said Maggie with a little sigh, very gentle and almost imperceptible, in her voice. "Oh, I love it!" she continued with enthusiasm; "for it helps--I mean, the life there helps--to make one good."