Mabel now came in, and though she manifested no particular emotion, she was exceedingly kind to Nellie, asking her many questions, and sometimes smoothing her brown curls.  When Mrs. Hudson again appeared she was very calm, but I noticed that her eyes constantly rested upon Nellie, who, with Mabel’s gray kitten in her lap, was seated upon the doorstep, the very image of childish innocence and beauty.  Mrs. Hudson urged us to stay to tea but I declined, knowing that there was company at home, with three kinds of cake, besides cookies, for supper.  So bidding her good-by, and promising to come again, we started homeward, where we found the ladies discussing their green tea and making large inroads upon the three kinds of cake.

One of them, a Mrs. Thompson, was gifted with the art of fortune-telling, by means of tea-grounds, and when Nellie and I took our seats at the table she kindly offered to see what was in store for us.  She had frequently told my fortune, each time managing to fish up a freckle-faced boy so nearly resembling her grandson, my particular aversion, that I didn’t care to hear it again.  But with Nellie ’twas all new, and after a great whirling of tea-grounds and staining of mother’s best table-cloth, she passed her cup to Mrs. Thompson, confidently whispering to me that she guessed she’d tell her something about Willie Raymond, who lived in the city, and who gave her the little cornelian ring which she wore.  With the utmost gravity Mrs. Thompson read off the past and present, and then peering far into the future she suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, my! there’s a gulf, or something, before you, and you are going to tumble into it headlong; don’t ask me anything more.”

I never did and never shall believe in fortune-telling, much less in Granny Thompson’s “turned-up cups,” but years after I thought of her prediction with regard to Nellie.  Poor, poor Nellie!

CHAPTER IV.

JEALOUSY.

On the first Monday in June our school commenced, and long before breakfast Lizzie and I were dressed and had turned inside out the little cupboard over the fireplace where our books were kept during vacation.  Breakfast being over we deposited in our dinner-basket the whole of a custard pie, and were about starting off when mother said “we shouldn’t go a step until half-past eight,” adding further, that “we must put that pie back, for ’twas one she’d saved for their own dinner.”

Lizzie pouted, while I cried, and taking my bonnet I repaired to the “great rock,” where the sassafras, blackberries, and blacksnakes grew.  Here I sat for a long time, thinking if I ever did grow up and get married (I was sure of the latter), I’d have all the custard pie I could eat for once!  In the midst of my reverie a footstep sounded near, and looking up I saw before me Nellie Gilbert, with her satchel of books on her arm, and her sunbonnet hanging down her back, after the fashion in which I usually wore mine.  In reply to my look of inquiry she said her father had concluded to let her go to the district school, though he didn’t expect her to learn anything but “slang terms and ill manners.”