CHAPTER XVII--THE FORTUNE-TELLERS
"My dears," said Mrs. Cartwright, two days after the accident, cominginto the sitting-room, where Ruth and Bab were idling, "I suppose youknow that you are the heroines of Newport. No one is talking aboutanything but your accident. You have almost put the jewel robbery out ofour minds. How do you feel this morning?"
"Oh, as fit as anything," smiled Ruth, though she still looked a littlepale. "I have just written a long letter to father, to assure him that Ishall be well enough to play in the tournament next week."
"That is fine," declared Mrs. Cartwright. "And you, Bab?"
"There never was much the matter with me," Bab answered.
"Then you are just the girls I am looking for," said Mrs. Cartwright,clapping her hands. "You know, I asked you, Bab, to play gypsyfortune-teller at my bazaar; now I want to ask Ruth to join you.Everyone thinks you are both laid up from your accident, and no one willsuspect who you are. The plans for the bazaar are going splendidly. Ithink I shall make lots of money for my poor sailors. I shall have it assimple and attractive as I can--a real country fair, with booths andlemonade stands. I am going to give these jaded Newport people a tasteof the simple life. Do say you will help me."
Both girls shook their heads. "We do not know how to tell fortunes,"they protested.
"Oh, it's only fun," argued Mrs. Cartwright. "You can make up anyfoolishness you like as you go along. I'll show you how to run thecards, as they call it. Has either of you ever seen anyone do it?"
Bab confessed she had watched "Granny Ann." Suddenly she left her chair,and came hobbling over to Mrs. Cartwright, saying, in Granny Ann's ownhigh-pitched, whining voice: "Lovely lady, would you know the future,grave or gay, cross my hand with a silver piece and list to what I say."
Gravely, Mrs. Cartwright extracted a dollar from her silver purse, andmade the gypsy sign on Bab's outstretched hand. Barbara immediately toldher such a nonsensical fortune, in a perfectly grave voice, that she andRuth both screamed with laughter.
"You'll do, Bab," said Mrs. Cartwright. "Won't you join her, Ruth?"
"Well," said Ruth, "I never desert Mrs. Micawber these days, or, to putit plainly, Miss Bab Thurston. So I'm game."
"Thursday, then, remember, and this is Tuesday," said Mrs. Cartwright."I am the busiest woman in Newport, so I must run away now. You shouldsee my house and lawn. They are full of workmen. The fair is to beginpromptly at four, and will last until midnight. We shall have dancing onthe lawn, but I want you girls and a few friends to come into the houseafter supper. When you finish playing fortune-tellers you can slip up tomy room and dress. Nobody must guess, when you come down, that you havenot just arrived. Now, I positively must be off. Tell Mollie and Grace Iam depending on them to act as waitresses. Gladys isn't willing to help.She wants all her time for Harry Townsend."
"Ruth," said Aunt Sallie, the afternoon of the bazaar, "I really cannotpermit you to go anywhere, looking as you do, even if you are wearing adisguise. You are too horrible!"
"Come and see Barbara," Grace called from the next room. "I am sure shemust look worse. Why," she asked, laughing, "do you and Ruth want todisguise yourselves as such dreadful-looking gypsies. You might just aseasily have arranged to look like young and charming ones."
"Oh, no," said Bab. "We want to look like the real thing, not like stagegypsies." Barbara had arranged to appear as much like "Granny Ann" asshe possibly could. A red and yellow handkerchief was bound around herhead almost to her eyebrows, her face was stained to a deep brown, withlines and heavy seams drawn over it; even her hands were made up to lookold and weather beaten.
"Remember, you have never seen nor heard of these extraordinaryfortune-tellers before," warned Ruth. "And don't forget, Barbara andRuth are at home at Mrs. Ewing's, but they may feel well enough to cometo the fair in the evening." Ruth caught Bab's arm, and together theymade a low curtsey.
"Beautiful ones," Ruth went on, pointing to Miss Sallie, who was lookinghandsome in a gown of pale gray crepe, with a violet hat and sunshade,and to Mollie and Grace, who were dressed like Swiss peasant girls,"your fortunes I would like to tell before you go to the Fair. Easy itis for my wise eyes to perceive that you will be the belles and beautiesof the entertainment. Now, farewell!"
The "gypsies" were to drive over early to Mrs. Cartwright's in a closedcarriage. Ralph was to take Miss Sallie, Grace and Mollie in the motorcar later on.
"Granny Ann" and "old Meg" slipped inside the gypsy tent before any ofthe guests had arrived at the bazaar. They had gazed in wonder at Mrs.Cartwright's beautiful lawn, changed to look like a country fair. It washung with bunting and flags, and had small tables and chairs under thetrees; also a May-pole strung with long streamers of different coloredribbons. Mrs. Cartwright had planned a May-pole dance as one of thechief features of the afternoon, and Mollie and Grace were both to takepart.
For the gypsies, life was a serious matter. The tent was divided by ared curtain; on a low wooden table burned a round iron pot filled withcharcoal and curious odorous herbs; a pack of dirty cards lay near it."The cards must be dirty," argued Ruth, "or no one would believe we werethe real thing in gypsies." Two rough stools stood by the table, and theonly daylight shone through the tent flap. On the other side of thecurtain, Mrs. Cartwright had been kinder to her gypsies. Here were awicker couch and big chairs, where they could rest and talk; also atable for refreshments, "for," laughed Mrs. Cartwright, as she left thetent to welcome her first guests, "I have always heard that gypsies area particularly hungry race of people."
Mrs. Cartwright's fair was a huge success. The most fashionable "set" inNewport were present, entering into the spirit of the occasion withgreat zest.
Gladys and Harry Townsend were seen everywhere together; but to-daythere was often a third person with them, the Countess Bertouche, thewoman of the gold-colored brocade, but lately introduced in Newportsociety.
"I believe Gladys is engaged to Harry Townsend," whispered Grace toMollie, when she had observed Harry bending over Miss Le Baron andtalking to her in a more devoted manner than usual.
"Well," retorted pretty Mollie, with a toss of her head, "I am sure I donot envy either one of them."
All afternoon the gypsy tent had been flooded with visitors. Barbara andRuth had the time of their lives. No one recognized the two automobilegirls in the aged crones who mumbled and told strange fortunes in hoarsetones.
It was growing late, and the gypsy tent was for the time deserted. Ruthwas resting on the couch in the back of the tent, while Bab sat nearher, talking over their experiences of the afternoon.
Suddenly the tent flap opened, and Grace and Mollie rushed in. Beforeeither of them spoke, they turned and fastened the flap down againsecurely, so no one could enter without their knowing it.
"What's the matter?" asked Ruth and Bab at once, for it was plain to seetheir visitors were greatly excited.
Grace and Mollie started talking together. "Mrs. Cartwright's diamondbutterfly----" then they both stopped. "Are you sure no one can hear?Mollie, you tell," finished Grace.
"The butterfly has gone, vanished right off Mrs. Cartwright's frock,this afternoon, while she was talking to her visitors. You know, shechanged the ornament she wore in her hair into a brooch. She showed itto me early this afternoon, when I first came, and now--it is gone! Itell you, girls, there's a thief among these Newport people. I think it,and so does Mrs. Cartwright, and ever so many others. Promise you'llnever tell," went on Mollie, "but there are two detectives here watchingall the guests! I'd like to find the thief myself. I'd know Mrs.Cartwright's butterfly anywhere."
There were noises at the tent door.
Barbara heard Gladys's high, querulous voice, saying, coquettishly: "Idon't want my fortune told, Harry. I would much rather you told it to meany way." But Mr. Townsend insisted.
"Fly, girls--do, please! They are coming in!" said Barbara. "No; youcan't get out, but you must stay perfectly still behind this curtain,and not breathe a single word."
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nbsp; It was almost entirely dark in the gypsy tent, the only light comingfrom the burning pot of fire on the table. Barbara stooped low, when sheopened the door to allow Harry, Gladys and the Countess Bertouche tocome in.
"It groweth late," Bab began, croakingly. "Evil may come. No goodfortunes fall between dusk and darkness. Beware!"
Gladys shuddered. "Let's not go in," she urged.
But Harry Townsend only laughed. "Don't let the old hag frighten you,"he retorted, lightly. "Here," he turned to the gypsy and spoke in avoice no one of the girls had ever heard him use, "here, you oldswindler, speak out! What kind of fate do you read for me in the stars?"
Barbara picked up the pack of dirty cards, and began to shuffle themslowly. An idea was revolving in her head. Dared she do it? But Barbarawas a girl who was not easily daunted.
Harry Townsend's Face Grew Livid.]
After a minute of silence she shook her head. "What I see I dare notreveal," she whined. "All black, dark, dark mystery!"
"Oh, stuff!" jeered Mr. Townsend. "Don't try that dodge on me. Tell whatyou know."
Barbara flung down the cards and blew three puffs into the smoulderingpot of fire. Ashes and tiny flames shot up from it. She started back,then pointing a finger, she hissed: "Something is moving toward you,curving and coiling and twisting round you. Mercy!" she cried. "It is agreen snake, and its fangs have struck into your soul!"
Harry Townsend's face grew livid. In a moment the look of youth vanishedfrom his face, his lips turned blue, and his eyes narrowed to two finepoints.
The Countess Bertouche came forward. "Harry," she said, "come away. Youforget yourself. Don't listen to such nonsense."
"Harry!" thought Gladys to herself, angrily. "She certainly presumes ona short acquaintance! Harry, indeed!"
But Barbara had not finished.
"Stay!" she said, holding up a warning finger. "Another messengerappears. It is a beautiful, bright thing, sparkling and darting towardyou. Why," she added, quickly, "it is lighting on your coat. It hasflown inside--a beautiful butterfly, born of summer time and flowers.Or"--this time Barbara leaned over and whispered in his ear--"or it may bemade of diamonds and come from a jeweler's shop."
For an instant, Harry Townsend's hand flew to his vest pocket. He rose,saying quietly to his companions: "Come away from here. Did you ever seesuch a stupid old fraud? A snake and a butterfly--a curious fortuneindeed!"
Automobile Girls at Newport; Or, Watching the Summer Parade Page 17