clown a little?" said Lily, for the astrologer was
still lingering in the passage.

"No, my dear, thank you," said Mr. Kafooze;
"madame will be off in a few minutes, and I
shouldn't like to fall in her way. I am afraid,
my dear, she hasn't a very good temper. Some
people can't help it; it's all owing to their
stars, and folks can't help their stars, you
know."

"Did you want to say anything particular to
me, Mr. Kafooze?" Lily asked.

"Yes, my dear, just one word. You said you
didn't know what star your mother was born
under?"

"No, I don't know at all, Mr. Kafooze, or I
should be very happy to tell you."

"I'm sure you would, my dear, I'm sure you
would," said Mr. Kafooze. "It's a pity you
don't know, though, for I might be able to tell
you something about the future."

"Can you read the future, and tell what's
going to happen, then?" Lily asked.

"Yes, my dear; I've been very correct on many
occasions, I assure you. I make all the
calculations for a prophetic almanack that sells by
hundreds of thousands; but I never get the
credit of it, nor the profit of it either. Poor
broken-down folks like me never do. People
laugh and say the things are put down at
random, just what comes first; but they don't
know anything about it. I can assure you,
my dear, that when the almanack's in hand
—and one is no sooner off than another
comes—on I sit up night after night with
the stars, and watch them, and read them
until they go out in the dawn. And you
should see the quires and quires of paper that I
cover with figures. It costs me something for
paper, I can tell you, and if it wasn't for the
backs of Mr. M?Variety's letters and the old
copy-books, I'm sure I don't know what I
should do. Ah, it's hard work reading the
stars, when you read them in earnest as I do.
And there's no doing anything with them
unless you study them well. I've got a
list of my predictions fulfilled, if you would
like to look at them. Here's what I
predicted in my almanack for 1845: 'February,
Mars is in Taurus, so that this month
there will be wars and rumours of wars,
and rebellions,' which you will see, my dear,
by the Morning Advertiser of the 16th of
February of the following year, was borne out
to the letter. Here's the paragraph. It says:
'Yesterday the usually quiet little town of
Croydon was the scene of great disturbance,
owing to a quarrel among the navvies engaged
on the railway. The navvies fought for some
time with stones and sticks, and several of
them were severely wounded. The tumult,
however, was speedily put down by the police.'
And here's another very remarkable one. For
the 16th of March I said: 'The opposition of
Saturn to Mars denotes the death of a great
warrior.' And, sure enough, on the 16th of
April of the following year, the Times
announced the death of Lieutenant-Colonel
Bolderby, of the Somersetshire militia. One of my
predictions was fulfilled to the very day. The
aspect of Neptune, my dear, enabled me to predict
that there would be disaster at sea on the
13th of September, and on that very day, at one
o'clock, a boy was drowned while out bathing at
Southend. Ah, the stars never deceive you
when you study them well. Do you know what
star you were born under, my dear?"

"No, Mr. Kafooze," Lily said; "I have not
the least idea."

"I should like to know very much," said
Mr. Kafooze; "and also your ma's. I think
your ma's star must have been Saturn. I don't
say it with any disrespect to your ma, my dear,
but Saturn is a bad star to be born under. The
ancients said that he ate his children."

It flitted across Lily's mind that her ma's
star was most probably Saturn.

"You can't tell me the date of your birth,
can you?" Mr. Kafooze asked.

"I don't think I can, exactly, Mr. Kafooze,"
Lily answered. "I used to have a birthday,
but it was long ago at school. I think it was in
November—the last day of November."

"And how old are you now, my dear?"

"It may seem a strange thing to say, Mr.
Kafooze," Lily answered, " but I don't exactly
know. I—I think I am nineteen."

"Nineteen!" said Mr. Kafooze, "and the
last day of November. Let me see, that will
take us back to the year——But, bless me,
there's your ma just come off, and I wouldn't
have her catch me here for the world. Good-by,
my dear, for the present. You'll see me again
soon, when I may have something to tell you
about the future."

And Mr. Kafooze closed the door, and shuffled
away in the dark to get out of the countess's
way. Poor soul he was thoroughly in earnest
about his stars, and really worked hard at that
almanack which brought its proprietor and
publisher many hundreds a year, but yielded old
Kafooze only a few miserable pounds. Yet if
it had yielded him nothing, he would have taken
the same pains, for he loved his work, and
believed in it. And this was how the poor old
man never could earn more than his two pounds
ten a week: he trusted in man, and believed in
the stars.

Madame Ernestine came off from her exposition
of the high school of horsemanship in great
good humour. She was quite radiant with
satisfaction. M'Variety had brought to her more
good news.

"I am going to give you a benefit, countess,
on the last night of the season."

The countess was not overjoyed at first, for
she had had some experience of benefits. There
were benefits and no benefits. M?Variety
interpreted her dubious look at once, and hastened
to assure her.

"Oh, don't be afraid; it's not that sort; the
real thing, bonâ fide, fair share of the receipts,
and no expenses. Come to my room after your
performance, and I'll tell you all about it."

It was very necessary for Mr. M?Variety to