the number of splashes with which the pinafore
was decorated. The garment reached to the
sage's heels, and showed his vast stature to the
greatest advantage. He wore a white cap,
moreover, and presented altogether a somewhat
startling appearance.

"She's to come up, is she?" inquired Smaggsdale,
hesitatingly.

"Yes, certainly. If she'll take the trouble,"
replied the astrologer, who was always courteous.

"Won't you—won't you take your gownd
off?"

"No, I couldn't do that, Smagg. This
mixture isn't half done yet, and I must finish the
composition to-night, because it was begun
under Saturn, and must, if possible, be finished
under the same conditions."

Old Smagg was in one of his sceptical moods,
so he made no answer, and withdrew.

"She never failed before," muttered Cornelius
to himself, reverting again to the subject
which had just before occupied him. "And she
mentioned the day so particularly—and then
there was her future, which I couldn't get a
glimpse of—another reason why she should be
specially anxious to come. Not,"continued
the chemist, turning on a new supply of liquor
from the caldron, and stirring more vehemently
than ever, "not that I've any more definite
intelligence for her if she does come. I've had no
better luck, and what was a blank before is a
blank still, and seems likely to remain so, as far
as I can see."

The philosopher was disturbed in his reflections
by a smart rap at the door—a rap, indeed,
such as never could have emanated from the
vacillating knuckles of the doubtful Smaggsdale.
In fact, it was that gentleman's better-half, who,
in consideration of her husband's breathless
condition, had consented to show Miss
Cantanker the way to the sanctum.

"Party for a horror-scope," said the worthy
lady, flinging open the door abruptly.

"Horoscope, woman!" retorted the
philosopher.

"Ah, well. It don't much matter."

"Yes, but I tell you that it does matter. These
things are of too great importance to be thus
flippantly dealt with: where's your husband?"

"He's trying to catch his breath. He lost
it coming up here last time."

"Well, tell him to come up himself next time.
You may go."

"Oh yes, I'll go fast enough. I don't want
my fortune told," and she flounced out of the
room, leaving Miss Cantanker staring in some
astonishment at all that she saw and heard.

"That woman is a source of great annoyance
to me," said the philosopher in an explanatory
manner. "If it was not for her husband, I would
get rid of her."

The person thus addressed remained speechless.
Indeed, she was too much astonished to
say anything. The novelty of the scene, and
the extraordinary aspect presented by our
experimentalist, were too much even for Cantanker.

In truth, it must be owned that the appearance
of the great man was a little out of the
ordinary way. His costume alone, coupled with
his great size, would have been enough to
startle anybody; but, in addition to this, it
must be taken into consideration by the reader,
who would form an idea of Mr. Vampi's appearance,
that his countenance had at this time
contracted something of the flaming quality of the
furnace over which he had been bending, and
was suffused with a hue of the deepest crimson,
thrown out in tremendous relief by his
white robes and cap. It was a wondrous
apparition, then, that stood before Miss Cantanker,
as the philosopher turned round, pipkin in.
hand, to address her.

"You wished to consult me, I think," said
Cornelius, pulling off his cap to make a bow.
"I am here, at your service."

Cantanker was a little puzzled how to begin.
Cornelius Vampi was a very different person
from the Sibyl of the Edgeware-road. The very
benevolence of his aspect made Cantanker's
proposal all the more difficult. How could she ask
that innocent, philanthropical-looking creature
to curse her enemy?

She looked round about the room in her
perplexity as to how to begin. There was a set of
colossal drawings on pasteboard of the signs of
the zodiac hung on the walls. They looked
very large and truculent, and as her eye lit upon
Cancer and Scorpio, she seemed to get
encouragement. The man who could take delight in
such things was not altogether without malignant
capacity, she felt sure.

After once turning round to address her,
Cornelius had returned immediately to the
composition on which he was engaged. Cantanker
could speak without having his eye upon her;
that was something.

"I took the liberty of calling," she began,
"in consequence of having heard from a friend
that you were in the habit of having dealings
with things that are altogether out of the
common way, and in the supernatural line, the
'eavenly bodies, and fortune-telling, and
suchlike."

"You have heard rightly, ma'am," replied the
philosopher. "To stand upon the very verge
and limits of the visible and tangible world, and
gaze forth into that world which is invisible and
intangible, is the highest and most glorious
achievement which belongs to man, and I frankly
own that studies of the kind which you indicate,
have formed a great part of the business of my
life."

There was not much encouragement in this.
It was not to inquire into the secrets which are
hidden under the veil of futurity that Cantanker
had come to visit the astrologer. She had come
to enlist in his service an agency in whose efficacy
she firmly believed, and which it seemed to
her the extreme of folly to neglect.

"I suppose," she said, after a little reflection,
"that you don't go through all this study of the
stars and the 'eavenly bodies, and what not,
without its giving you some power like over
your fellow-creatures?"