Hilda's Mascot Part 21

"They are as handsome as pictures," thought Mrs. Warfield proudly. "The Garden of Eden could scarcely have shown a handsomer couple."

"How are you, old fellow?" said Fred, turning with a bright smile to shake hands with his brother.

"In fine health and spirits, and I see you are the same."

"I thought you were not coming until late. Having you in time for supper is an unexpected pleasure," said his mother.

"I intended coming out on the evening train, but there are gypsies encamped in Mr. Barry's woods, and some of the young people of Springfield came out in carriages to have their fortunes told, and insisted that I should come with them, and here I am."

"I have not the least belief in gypsies or in fortune telling, but I am glad you are here. Now we will go to the tea table."

With an arm about his mother's waist, Paul led the way, and Fred, with a radiant smile of pleasure, offered his arm to Hilda, who accepted with a smile and blush.

If Mrs. Warfield allowed herself to be proud of anything, it was of her sons, and not without reason. They were sensible, well educated, attentive to business, and honorable in their dealings, and mothers with marriageable daughters could not forbear pointing out, or at least alluding to the excellence of these damsels when in the society of Sarah Warfield.

If it be true that happy people have no history, then nothing could have been recorded of Fred Warfield, for Mother Destiny had willed that his pathway from babyhood should lie in sunshine, never in shadow. He had experienced but few disappointments and fewer trials to dampen his exuberant spirits; but light, almost trifling as he was in manner, his intimates knew that beneath it all was a warm, affectionate nature, a steadfast love for what was good, and a wish to help others to enjoy life, as he undoubtedly did.

That he was captivated by every new face and fickle in his attachments was known to all who were acquainted with him, but they looked upon it as no more than might be expected of a handsome youth who was courted and admired in society, a fault which age and experience would correct.

That evening at the farmhouse was an ideally happy one to him, the only shadow to its brightness being the knowledge that he could not study law in Springfield and at the same time remain under the home roof without attracting attention to the fact that it was because Hilda was there.

Without appearing to notice, Mrs. Warfield took note of Fred's manner to the young girl, and read his thoughts as accurately as if inscribed upon the page of an open book, and resolved to have a more serious conversation with him than she had ever had in regard to his failing.

If it lay in her power to prevent it, there should be no trifling with the affections of any girl, no blighted happiness laid to the charge of her sons.

"It is really too beautiful this evening to stay indoors," remarked Fred, when, tea finished, they returned to the parlor. "Mother, I will have Planchette put to the carriage and take you and cousin Hilda for a drive."

"I would enjoy it, but Hilda will excuse me this evening, as several ladies are coming from the village to help arrange for a fair to be held in the hall there, but that need not prevent you and Hilda from going."

"We will drive past the gypsy encampment," said Fred eagerly, turning to Hilda. "It is really romantic; I could scarcely tear myself away. You will go, won't you, cousin?"

No need to ask. Hilda's face showed her delight in antic.i.p.ation of something so new and altogether enchanting.

"I hope you will not encourage the gypsies by stopping to listen to their foolishness," said Mrs. Warfield gently.

"Oh, I would not have them tell my fortune for anything!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Hilda. "I would be afraid they would tell me something evil."

"That would depend upon what you paid them," smiled Mrs. Warfield.

Fred made no comment, but hurried out to give orders for the conveyance.

"Now, cousin mine," he said as it came to the gate, "allow me to a.s.sist you," and with easy grace he took the filmy white scarf from Hilda's hand and placed it adroitly and becomingly on her brown hair and a few minutes later Planchette was speeding away with the long swinging trot which characterized her.

Fred had said truly that nothing could be pleasanter than the drive to the encampment, and nothing more romantic than the scene upon which they looked a little later.

In order to observe, and, as he thought, be un.o.bserved, Fred selected as a good place to halt a part of the forest separated from the encampment by a running brook and the thick screen of willows on either side, between the trunks of which they could, with but slight obstruction, have a good view of the camp.

In the foreground were two small tents, in front of which was burning a bright fire of brushwood.

Two forked sticks supported an iron rod from which was suspended a tea kettle, clouds of steam issuing from lid and spout.

Upon a large box which served as a table a middle-aged woman had spread a white cloth, and was placing upon it dishes of different colors, and with an eye to effect.

A young and handsome gypsy in a scarlet dress and with a plaid kerchief about her shapely throat was seated under a large oak tree that spread its protecting arms over the tents.

Her swarthy yet clear complexion was smooth as satin, her eyes were large, brown and l.u.s.trous, and her crimson lips parted frequently in smiles at the gambols of the child at her feet, showing her perfect teeth. Two robust little boys played about the mossy bank, upon whom her eyes rested with pride.

Back of the tents stood two substantial, covered wagons, and under the oaks beside them lay three gypsy men, idly watching the horses, which, held by ropes, were cropping the gra.s.s within reach.

"It looks so lovely and peaceful," commented Hilda. "I wish an artist were here to sketch it."

"The full moon is rising," said Fred, turning to look through the window of the carriage; "the tops of the trees are becoming silvered, which adds to the beauty. Would you like to be a gypsy, Cousin Hilda?"

"At this hour it would be charming to encamp; but during the bitter cold and snow-storms of winter the poor creatures must suffer."

"No danger but they will keep warm so long as there is wood to steal; besides, they are accustomed to rough it," said Fred lightly.

"And yet they suffer sometimes from exposure. When I was a child Dr.

Lattinger attended a gypsy who was ill of pneumonia. Their encampment was in the woods near Dorton during two months of winter, and Dr.

Lattinger saw her twice a day. He said they were very respectful to him, and in sympathy for the sick woman and in care of her were much like our own people. They were of the tribe of Stanley."

"Yes, I suppose they have good and evil among them as have other communities, but it is the general belief that gypsies are not trustworthy."

"Which of those women is the fortune-teller?"

"Neither of those. I do not see her. She must be in one of the tents."

"Is she handsome?"

"Handsome! She is gray and wrinkled, and toothless and swarthy, cross-grained and disagreeable in every way. Phew!" grimaced Fred, at the remembrance of the prophetess.

"She did not please you in your fortune, I think," laughed Hilda.

"She was not very clever to me, that is certain. Jack Prettyman gave her the largest fee, and is to marry a rich and beautiful girl and live in Europe."

"What did she tell you?"

"She paid me a few compliments, which no doubt I deserve. She caught me mimicking her, and I never saw such a look of malignant hate as crossed her ugly face."

"Had you no faith in her predictions, then?"

"No; yet I felt almost startled when she described my mother and my home better than I could have done. She also told me of some of my flirtations," continued Fred, laughingly, while he reddened. "The old vixen said I would meet my match at no distant day, and would receive no pity, and deserve none."

"How could she describe your mother and your home?" said his companion, amused at his discomfiture. "She had never seen them, had she?"

"Not that I am aware of, but these strollers have sources of information unsuspected by honest individuals. She could not have told me so much of my life since childhood had not someone given her the information."

"What did she tell the ladies who came with you?"