Mr. Sagittarius was greatly moved.

"She's a saint," he whispered aside to the Prophet, as if imparting some necessary information.

"Certainly. Please go on!"

Mr. Sagittarius started, as if suddenly recalled to mundane matters.

"Get it at the Stores," he said. "In the astronomical department."

"Very well."

"Having done so, and keeping the old lady perpetually in your mind, you will place her in the claws of the crab--"

"What!"

"Mentally, sir, mentally, of course."

"Oh."

"And, allowing for the natural effect of the scorpion and serpent upon one of her venerable age--"

"Good Heavens!"

"When close round her, as they will be--but you will observe that for yourself--"

The Prophet shut his eyes as one who refuses to behold sacrilege.

"You will trace the cycloidal curve of the planets--can you do that?"

The Prophet nodded.

"As it affects her birthday, the twentieth. Should the lynx be near her--"

"No, no!" cried the Prophet. "It shall not be!"

"Well, you'll have to find that out and keep an eye to it. But should it be, you will commit to paper what result its presence is likely to produce to her, and work the whole thing out clearly for myself and Madame on paper--in prophetic form, of course--so that we receive it by--what post shall I say, my dear?"

"First post, Jupiter."

"First post on--what day is the twentieth?"

"I don't know," replied the Prophet, helplessly.

"A Thursday," said Madame. "Capricornus's day for chronic sections."

"She always knows," said Mr. Sagittarius to the Prophet.

"Always."

"Very well then, first post Thursday morning. Now is that quite clear?"

"Oh, quite, quite."

"You will of course send the old lady's horoscope to us at the same time with full particulars."

"Full particulars?" said the Prophet. "What of?"

"Of her removal from the bottle, cutting of her first tooth, short coating, going into skirts, putting of the hair up, day of marriage and widowhood, illnesses--"

"Especially the rashes, Jupiter," struck in Madame.

"What a mind!" said Mr. Sagittarius aside to the Prophet.

"What!"

"Especially as Madame says, any illnesses taking the form of a rash--the epidemic form, as I may say--and so forth. We are to receive this doc.u.ment by the first post Thursday morning."

"Have you dotted all that down, Mr. Vivian?" inquired Madame.

The Prophet hastily made a large variety of scratches with the lead pencil.

"And now," continued Mr. Sagittarius.

There was a third tap at the door.

"Come in," cried the Prophet, distractedly, and feeling as if homicidal mania were rapidly creeping upon him.

Mr. Ferdinand appeared once more, with a mouth like a purse.

"Her ladyship says she really must go in a moment, sir, and--and Mrs.

Merillia begs that--"

"I am coming at once, Mr. Ferdinand. I swear it. Go upstairs and swear I swear it."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Ferdinand departed, rather with the demeanour of an archbishop who has been inveigled into pledging himself, on his archiepiscopal oath, to commit some horrid crime. The Prophet turned, almost violently, towards his guests.

"I must go," he cried. "I must indeed. Pray forgive me. You see how I am circ.u.mstanced. Permit me to show you to the door."

"You swear, sir, to carry out all our directions and to dot down--"

"I do. I swear solemnly to dot down--if you will only--this way. Take care of the mat."

"We trust you, Mr. Vivian," said Madame, with majestic pathos. "A wife, a mother trusts you. _Placens uxus! Mater familiaris_."

"I pledge my honour. This is the--no, no, not that way, not that way!"