udulent, but when her clairvoyance was not in working order
she made use of character-reading with good results.

"Won't the Gorgios lady have her fortune told?" she asked in wheedling
tones. "Cross Mother Cockleshell's hand with silver and she'll tell the
coming years truly."

"Why do they call you Mother Cockleshell?" demanded Miss Greeby, waiving
the question of fortune-telling for the time being.

"Bless your wisdom, it was them fishermen at Grimsby who did so. I
walked the beaches for years and told charms and gave witchly spells for
fine weather. Gentilla Stanley am I called, but Mother Cockleshell was
their name for me. But the fortune, my tender Gentile--"

"I don't want it told," interrupted Miss Greeby abruptly. "I don't
believe in such rubbish."

"There is rubbish and there is truth," said the ancient gypsy darkly.
"And them as knows can see what's hidden from others."

"Well, you will have an opportunity this afternoon of making money. Some
fools from The Manor are coming to consult you."

Mother Cockleshell nodded and grinned to show a set of beautifully
preserved teeth. "I know The Manor," said she, rubbing her slim hands.
"And Lord Garvington, with his pretty sister."

"Lady Agnes Pine?" asked Miss Greeby. "How do you know, her?"

"I've been in these parts before, my gentle lady, and she was good to me
in a sick way. I would have died in the hard winter if she hadn't fed me
and nursed me, so to speak. I shall love to see her again. To dick a
puro pal is as commoben as a aushti habben, the which, my precious
angel, is true Romany for the Gentile saying, 'To see an old friend is
as good as a fine dinner.' Avali! Avali!" she nodded smilingly. "I shall
be glad to see her, though here I use Romany words to you as doesn't
understand the lingo."

Miss Greeby was not at all pleased to hear Lady Agnes praised; as,
knowing that Lambert had loved her, and probably loved her still, she
was jealous enough to wish her all possible harm. However, it was not
diplomatic to reveal her true feelings to Mother Cockleshell, lest the
old gypsy should repeat her words to Lady Agnes, so she turned the
conversation by pointing to a snow-white cat of great size, who stepped
daintily out of the tent. "I should think, as a witch, your cat ought to
be black," said Miss Greeby. Mother Cockleshell screeched like a
night-owl and hastily pattered some gypsy spell to avert evil. "Why, the
old devil is black," she cried. "And wh