an about half a minute, the blot continued,--

"She's gone to bed."

"I know she has," said the Prophet, presuming that the blot, which
seemed instinct with all knowledge, was referring to his grandmother.

"But she knows you're at it again," continued the blot.

The Prophet started violently and leaned upon the window-sill.

"No! How can that be?" he ejaculated.

"Ho! Them girls knows everything, especially the old uns," said the
blot, with an audible chuckle.

"Good gracious!" gasped the Prophet, overwhelmed at this mysterious
visitant's familiar description of his revered grandmother.

"Have you seen her to-night?" inquired the blot, controlling its
merriment.

"Yes," said the Prophet. "With the Crab."

"What!" cried the blot, in obvious astonishment. "Them instruments must
be wonderful sight-carriers."

"They are," exclaimed the Prophet, with almost mystic enthusiasm.
"Wonderful. I have seen her with the Crab distinctly."

"Ah! well, I told her she ought to keep away from it," continued the
blot.

"Did you?" said the Prophet, with increasing surprise. "But how could
she?"

"Ah! that's just it! She couldn't."

"No, of course not."

"She was drawn right to it."

"She was. It wasn't her fault. It was the Crab's."

"A pity it was dressed."

"What?"

"I say it's a pity 'twas dressed."

"What was dressed?"

"What! why, the Crab!"

"The Crab--dressed!"

"Ay. They're a deal safer not dressed."

"Are they?"

"She knows it too."

"Does she?"

"But there--them women likes a spice of danger. She's in a nice state
now, you bet. Not much sleep for her, I'll lay. Well, I tried to keep
her from it, so you needn't blame me."

"I won't," said the Prophet, feeling completely dazed.

"Well, go'-night. I'm off round the square."

"Good-night," said the Prophet.

Suddenly a blinding flash of light dazzled his eyes. He covered them
with his hands. When he could see again the blot was gone.

Although he was retired to rest that night when the clock struck three,
the Prophet did not sleep. His nervous system was in a condition of
acute excitement. His brain felt like a burning ball, and the palms of
his hands were hot with fever. For the spirit of prophecy was upon him
once more, and he was bound fast in the golden magic of the stars. Like
the morphia maniac who, after valiant fasting, returning to his drug,
feels its influence the stronger for his abstinence from it, the Prophet
was conscious