"There, that's settled. So now let us get
to business. Kindly hand me your prophecy of last night, Mr. Vivian."
The Prophet drew from a breast pocket a sheet or two of notepaper, on
which he had dotted down, in prophetic form, the events of the night
before. Madame received it and continued,--
"Before perusing this report, Mr. Vivian, I should wish to be made
acquainted with those particulars."
"Which ones?" said the Prophet.
"Of your grandmother's career."
"Oh, I--"
"Let us take them in order, please, and proceed _parri passo_. When was
the old lady removed from the bottle?"
"Never," replied the Prophet, firmly. "Never."
An expression of incredulous amazement decorated the obstreperous
features of Madame.
"Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Vivian, that she sucks it still?" she
inquired.
"I mean what I say, that she has never been removed from it," returned
the Prophet, with energy.
"Well, sir, she must be very partial to milk and Indian rubber, very
partial indeed!" said Mr. Sagittarius. "Go on, my darling."
"Her first tooth, Mr. Vivian--when did she cut it?"
"She has no idea."
Madame began to look decidedly grim.
"Date of short-coating?" she rapped out.
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