replied he, "but how I came here into
this house, is one of the strangest things that ever occurred. I was
walking over the common, when a tall handsome woman looked at me, and
said, 'Young man, if you will go into the third public-house you pass,
you will meet an old friend, who expects you.' I thought she was
laughing at me, but as it mattered very little in which house I passed
the night, I thought, for the fun of the thing I might as well take her
advice."

"How strange!" cried Melchior, "and she told him the same--that is, he
would meet a friend."

"Strange--very strange--wonderful--astonishing!" was echoed from all
quarters, and the fame of the gipsy was already established.

Timothy and I sat down together, conversing as old friends, and Melchior
went about from one to the other, narrating the wonderful occurrence
till past midnight, when we all three took beds at the inn, as if we
were travellers.

The report which we had circulated that evening induced many people to
go out to see Nattee, who appeared to take no notice of them; and when
asked to tell fortunes, waved them away with her hand. But, although
this plan of Melchior's was, for the first two or three days very
expedient, yet, as it was not intended to last, Timothy, who remained
with me at the inn, became very intimate with the barmaid, and obtained
from her most of the particulars of her life. I, also, from repeated
conversations with the landlady, received information very important,
relative to herself, and many of the families in the town, but as the
employment of Nattee was for an ulterior object, we contented ourselves
with gaining all the information we could before we proceeded further.
After we had been there a week, and the fame of the gipsy woman had been
marvellously increased--many things having been asserted of her which
were indeed truly improbable--Melchior agreed that Timothy should
persuade the barmaid to try if the gipsy woman would tell her fortune:
the girl, with some trepidation, agreed, but at the same time, expecting
to be refused, consented to walk with him over the common. Timothy
advised her to pretend to pick up a sixpence when near to Nattee, and
ask her if it did not belong to her, and the barmaid acted upon his
suggestions, having just before that quitted the arm of Timothy, who had
conducted her.

"Did you drop a sixpence? I have picked up one," said the girl,
trembling with fear as she addressed Nattee.

"Child