of you not to ask any questions," observed Lady Enid,
presently.

The Prophet had been thinking it was, but he only said,--

"Oh, not at all."

"I'm a woman," promised Lady Enid, "and I don't know whether I can be so
nice."

The Prophet glanced at her and met her curious grey eyes.

"Try--please," he replied very gently, thinking of the oath which he had
just taken.

Lady Enid was silent for two minutes, then she remarked,--

"I have tried, but I can't succeed. Why on earth were you closeted in
the parlour--at my time, too--with Mr. Sagittarius this afternoon?"

"Then you really are Miss Minerva Partridge? And it was really you who
had--had--well, 'bespoke' the parlour at half-past three?"

"Certainly. Now we are neither of us nice, but we're both of us human."

"There were some letters for you," said the Prophet.

Lady Enid wrinkled her smooth, young, healthy-looking forehead.

"How stupid of me! I'll fetch them to-morrow. Well?"

She looked at the Prophet with obvious expectation.

"I'm so sorry I can't tell you," he replied with gentle firmness.

"Oh, all right," she rejoined. "But now I'm at a disadvantage. You know
I'm Miss Minerva."

"Yes. But I don't know why you are, or why you go to Jellybrand's, or
why you rushed into the parlour, or who the old gentleman was that--"

The cab stopped before Mrs. Merillia's house.

In the hall, upon an oaken bench, they perceived a very broad-brimmed
top hat standing on its head. Beside it lay two pieces of a stout and
knobbly walking stick which had been broken in half. Lady Enid started
violently.

"Good Heavens!" she cried.

She picked up the walking stick, examined it, and laid it down.

"I don't think I want any tea," she murmured.

"I'm sure you do," said the Prophet, with some pressure.

She stood still for a moment. Then, catching the attentive round eye of
Gustavus, who was waiting by the hall door, she shrugged her shoulders
and walked towards the staircase.

"It's very hard lines," she murmured as she began to ascend: "all
the questions you wanted to ask are being answered. You know I'm Miss
Minerva already. In another minute you'll know who the old gentleman was
that--"

The Prophet could tell from the expression of her straight, slightly
Scottish, back that she was pouting as she entered the drawing-room
where Mrs. Merillia was having tea with--somebody.

CHAPTER VI

THE OLD ASTRONOMER DISCOURSETH OF THE STARS

Never before