outh played two
dimples, which appeared and disappeared as she moved about the room
delivering monologue to Hattie.

"I see a dark gentleman that ain't in your life yet. He's behind a
counter now, I think. He ain't the one that the ace of hearts shows is
goin' to call. I see you all whirled about between 'em, but I sense
nothin' about how it's goin' to turn out--land sakes, child, don't you
ever dust behind the pictures? You'll have to be neater if you expect
to make a good wife to the dark gentleman--"

"Will it be him?" asked Hattie, stopping with a sheet in her hands.

"Now the spirits slipped that right out of me, didn't they?" pursued
Rosalie. "Land sakes, you can't keep 'em back when they want to talk.
Now you just hold that and think over it, dearie. No more for you
to-day." Rosalie busied herself with pinning the faded, dusty pink
ribbon to a gilded rolling pin, and turned her monologue upon herself:

"I ain't sayin' nothin' against this house for the price, dearie, but
my, this is a comedown. The last time I done straight clairvoyant work,
it was in a family hotel with three rooms and a bath and breakfast in
bed. Well, there's ups an' downs in this business. I've been down
before and up again--"

Hattie, her mouth relieved of a pillowcase, spoke boldly the question
in her mind.

"What put you down?"

Rosalie, her head on one side, considered the arrangement of the pink
ribbon, before she answered:

"Jealousy, dearie; perfessional jealousy. The Vango trumpet seances
were doin' too well to suit that lyin', fakin', Spirit Truth outfit in
Brooklyn--wasn't that the bell?"

It was. Hattie patted the pillow into place, and sped for the door.

"If it's for me," whispered Rosalie, "don't say I'm in--say you'll
see." Rosalie bustled about, putting the last touches on the room,
pulling shut the bead portieres which curtained alcove and bed.

Hattie poked her head in the door.

"It's a gentleman," she said.

"Well, come inside and shut the door--no use tellin' _him_ all about
himself," said Rosalie. "I'm--I'm kind of expectin' a gentleman visitor
I don't want to see yet. It's a matter of the heart, dearie," she
added. "What sort of a looking gentleman?"

Hattie stood a moment trying to make articulate her observations.

"He's got nice eyes," she said. "And he's dressed quiet but swell. Sort
of tall and distinguished."

"Did you look at his feet?" For the moment, Rosalie had taken it for
granted that al