Odd Craft | Page 8

lips.
"Who's old Mr. Silver, and what should he know about it?" inquired Mr.
Boxer.
"He's a fortune-teller," replied his wife. "Reads the stars," said his
mother-in-law.
Mr. Boxer laughed--a good ringing laugh. "What did he tell you?" he
inquired. "Nothing," said his wife, hastily. "Ah!" said Mr. Boxer,
waggishly, "that was wise of 'im. Most of us could tell fortunes that
way."
"That's wrong," said Mrs. Gimpson to her daughter, sharply. "Right's
right any day, and truth's truth. He said that he knew all about John and
what he'd been doing, but he wouldn't tell us for fear of 'urting our
feelings and making mischief."
"Here, look 'ere," said Mr. Boxer, starting up; "I've 'ad about enough o'
this. Why don't you speak out what you mean? I'll mischief 'im, the old
humbug. Old rascal."
"Never mind, John," said his wife, laying her hand upon his arm. "Here
you are safe and sound, and as for old Mr. Silver, there's a lot o' people
don't believe in him."
"Ah! they don't want to," said Mrs. Gimpson, obstinately. "But don't
forget that he foretold my cough last winter."
"Well, look 'ere," said Mr. Boxer, twisting his short, blunt nose into as
near an imitation of a sneer as he could manage, "I've told you my story
and I've got witnesses to prove it. You can write to the master of the
Marston Towers if you like, and other people besides. Very well, then;
let's go and see your precious old fortune-teller. You needn't say who I

am; say I'm a friend, and tell 'im never to mind about making mischief,
but to say right out where I am and what I've been doing all this time. I
have my 'opes it'll cure you of your superstitiousness."
[Illustration: "'Well, look 'ere,' said Mr. Boxer, 'I've told you my story
and I've got witnesses to prove it.'"]
"We'll go round after we've shut up, mother," said Mrs. Boxer. "We'll
have a bit o' supper first and then start early."
Mrs. Gimpson hesitated. It is never pleasant to submit one's
superstitions to the tests of the unbelieving, but after the attitude she
had taken up she was extremely loath to allow her son-in-law a
triumph.
"Never mind, we'll say no more about it," she said, primly, "but I 'ave
my own ideas."
"I dessay," said Mr. Boxer; "but you're afraid for us to go to your old
fortune-teller. It would be too much of a show-up for 'im."
"It's no good your trying to aggravate me, John Boxer, because you
can't do it," said Mrs. Gimpson, in a voice trembling with passion.
"O' course, if people like being deceived they must be," said Mr. Boxer;
"we've all got to live, and if we'd all got our common sense fortune-
tellers couldn't. Does he tell fortunes by tea-leaves or by the colour of
your eyes?"
"Laugh away, John Boxer," said Mrs. Gimpson, icily; "but I shouldn't
have been alive now if it hadn't ha' been for Mr. Silver's warnings."
"Mother stayed in bed for the first ten days in July," explained Mrs.
Boxer, "to avoid being bit by a mad dog."
"Tchee--tchee--tchee," said the hapless Mr. Boxer, putting his hand
over his mouth and making noble efforts to restrain himself; "tchee--tch
"I s'pose you'd ha' laughed more if I 'ad been bit?" said the glaring Mrs.

Gimpson.
"Well, who did the dog bite after all?" inquired Mr. Boxer, recovering.
"You don't understand," replied Mrs. Gimpson, pityingly; "me being
safe up in bed and the door locked, there was no mad dog. There was
no use for it."
"Well," said Mr. Boxer, "me and Mary's going round to see that old
deceiver after supper, whether you come or not. Mary shall tell 'im I'm
a friend, and ask him to tell her everything about 'er husband. Nobody
knows me here, and Mary and me'll be affectionate like, and give 'im to
understand we want to marry. Then he won't mind making mischief."
"You'd better leave well alone," said Mrs. Gimpson.
Mr. Boxer shook his head. "I was always one for a bit o' fun," he said,
slowly. "I want to see his face when he finds out who I am."
Mrs. Gimpson made no reply; she was looking round for the
market-basket, and having found it she left the reunited couple to keep
house while she went out to obtain a supper which should, in her
daughter's eyes, be worthy of the occasion.
She went to the High Street first and made her purchases, and was on
the way back again when, in response to a sudden impulse, as she
passed the end of Crowner's Alley, she turned into that small by-way
and knocked at the astrologer's door.
A slow, dragging footstep was heard approaching in reply