“Mother Bridgeman’s a dear one!  God bless her for a pretty soul!  She’d be sublime in musical comedy—­the black satin society lady, you know, who makes the aristocratic relief,—­

“’I’m a Dowager Duchess, and everyone knows I’m a lady right down to the tip of my toes.’

“Very valuable among the minxes; worth her weight in half-crowns!  I’d give her an engagement any day, pretty bird!  Ever seen her driving in a cab?  She takes off her gloves and spreads her hands over the apron to get the air.  A canary!  Anything for me to-night, Eureka?  A dove, a mongoose—­anything lucky?  Give us a chance, mother!”

The lady in vermilion, who had a tuft of golden hair in the midst of her otherwise raven locks, glanced mysteriously at Mr. Moses.

“See anything, mother?” he asked, with theatrical solemnity.  “A tiny chunk of luck for tricky little Briskin?”

“I do see something,” said Eureka, in a dim and heavy voice.  “It’s just close to you on that table by the brandy.”

Mr. Moses started, and cast a glance of awe at the tumbler.

“My word,” he cried—­“my word, mother!  What’s the blessed little symbol like?  Not a pony fresh from Jerusalem for your believing boy!”

“You must wait a moment.  It is not clear,” replied Eureka, slowly and dreamily, fixing her heavy eyes on the brandy-and-soda.  “It’s all cloudy.”

“Been imbibing, mother?  Has the blessed little symbol been at it again?  Briskin’s shock—­shocked!”

“It’s getting clearer.  It stands in a band of fire.”

“Shade of Shadrach!  Apparition of Abednego!  Draw it mild and bitter, mother!”

“Ah! now it steps out.  It’s got a hump.”

“Got the hump, mother?  My word! then it must be either a camel or an undischarged bankrupt!  Which is it, pretty soul?”

“It’s a rhinoceros.  It’s moving to you.”

“Yokohama, mother!  Tell the pretty bird to keep back!  What’s it mean?”

“It’s a sign of plenty.”

“Plenty of what, mother?  The ready or the nose-bag?  Give us a chance!”

“Plenty of good fortune, because its head is towards you.  If it had presented its tail, it would mean black weather.”

“Don’t let it turn tail, for Saturday’s sake, mother.  Keep its head straight while I finish the brandy!”

And so saying, little Mr. Moses, with elaborate furtiveness, caught up the tumbler, poured its contents down his throat, and threw himself back on the divan with the air of a man who had just escaped from peril by the consummate personal exercise of unparalleled and sustained ingenuity.

During this scene Miss Minerva had preserved her air of pronounced Scottish good sense, while listening attentively, and she now said to Eureka,—­

“D’you see anything for Mr. Vivian, dear Eureka?  Even the littlest thing would be welcomed.”

Eureka stared upon the Prophet, who began to feel very nervous.