Elizabeth has a way of entering
when I am most likely to lose the thread of my sentence.
'I'm fair worried about Miss Marryun,' she began.
I looked up with a start. 'What on earth do you mean?'
'Well, you see, the Signs are against 'er. They've bin against 'er for
days. Yesterday I see 'er sneeze three times to the left, an' that's
bad. Then when she put her right shoe on 'er wrong foot by accident, I
felt somethin' was comin'. But after I found two triangles an' a mouse
in 'er cup to-day I knew----'
[Illustration: A Bad Sign.]
'A mouse in her cup!' I marvelled.
'Fortune tellin' by tea-leaves, 'm. Well, a mouse is a Bad Sign. It's
my belief that she won't get no propogal this evenin'.'
I looked at Elizabeth sternly. I do not wish to insinuate for one
moment that she is in the habit of listening at doors, but she
certainly gains an insight into our private lives that is nothing short
of uncanny.
'I just been lookin' at the cards,' she continued, 'an' they say as
plain as can be that Mr. 'Arbinger isn't the one. 'E's the wrong
colour.'
'And what colour do you expect him to be?' I demanded.
''Im bein' fair takes King o' Dimonds. Well, Queen o' Clubs--that's
Miss Marryun--is seven cards removed from 'im and the three o' spades
comin' between spells disappointment. But, as I ses to 'er quite
recent, I ses, "If you want to see your true love aright go into the
garding by pale moonlight, walk in a circle, and say,--
"If I my true love now would see----"'
'Elizabeth,' I broke in, 'don't forget to grill master's bloaters for
breakfast.
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