If they don't tell about a lover with b-blue eyes and an Irish accent, I'll never b-believe them." Aunt Melvy bent over the cup, and her sides shook.

"You gwine be a farmer's wife," she said, chuckling at the girl's grimace.

"You gwine raise chickens an' chillun." "Ugh!" said Annette as the other girls laughed; "are his eyes b-blue ?" Aunt Melvy pondered over the leaves.

"Well, now, 'pears to me he's sorter dark-complected an' fat, like Mr.Sid Gray," she said.
"Never!" declared Annette.

"I loathe Sid." "Tell my future!" cried Martha, pushing her cup forward eagerly.
"Dey ain't none!" cried Aunt Melvy, aghast, as she saw the few broken leaves in the bottom of the cup.