"
Sara Ray giggled and Felicity blushed. Peter tried hard not to
look too self-consciously delighted.
"She will be a perfect housekeeper and will teach a Sunday School
class and be very happy all her life."
"Will her husband be happy?" queried Dan solemnly.
"I guess he'll be as happy as your wife," retorted Felicity
reddening.
"He'll be the happiest man in the world," declared Peter warmly.
"What about me?" asked Sara Ray.
The Story Girl looked rather puzzled. It was so hard to imagine
Sara Ray as having any kind of future. Yet Sara was plainly
anxious to have her fortune told and must be gratified.
"You'll be married," said the Story Girl recklessly, "and you'll
live to be nearly a hundred years old, and go to dozens of
funerals and have a great many sick spells. You will learn not to
cry after you are seventy; but your husband will never go to
church."
"I'm glad you warned me," said Sara Ray solemnly, "because now I
know I'll make him promise before I marry him that he will go."
"He won't keep the promise," said the Story Girl, shaking her
head. "But it is getting cold and Cecily is coughing. Let us go
in."
"You haven't told my fortune," protested Cecily disappointedly.
The Story Girl looked very tenderly at Cecily--at the smooth
little brown head, at the soft, shining eyes, at the cheeks that
were often over-rosy after slight exertion, at the little
sunburned hands that were always busy doing faithful work or quiet
kindnesses.
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