Still the stranger could observe that in spite of all his caution, there was a mystery and uneasiness in his manner, when talking of it, which he could not shake off.
When the conversation had reached this point, the old woman called her husband down in a voice that seemed somewhat agitated, but not, as far as he could guess, disagreeably.
"Denis, come down a minute," she said, "come down, will you?
here's a stranger that you haven't seen for some time." "What stranger ?" he inquired, peevishly.

"Who is it?
I wish you wouldn't bother me--I'm talkin' with a gentleman." "It's Ginty." "Ginty, is it ?" said he, musing.

"Well, that's odd, too--to think that she should come at this very moment.

Maybe, the hand of G--.

I beg your pardon, sir, for a minute or two--I'll be back immediately." He went down stairs, and found in the back parlor the woman named Ginty Cooper, the same fortune-teller and prophetess whom we have already described to the reader.
The old man seemed to consider her appearance not as an incident that stirred up any natural affection in himself, but as one that he looked upon as extraordinary.