"Since you ask me," said Berry, "my horoscope is of peculiar interest."
"What's a horoscope?" said Jill.
"A cross between a birth certificate and a conduct sheet," said I, nodding at Berry. "His is a wonder. You can get a copy of it for three and sixpence at Scotland Yard."
"I was born," said my brother-in-law, "when Uranus was in conjunction, Saturn in opposition, and the Conservatives in power. Venus was all gibbous, the Zodiac was in its zenith, and the zenith was in Charles's Wain, commonly called The Cart. My sign was Oleaqua—The Man with the Watering Pot. When I add that a thunderstorm was raging, and that my father had bet five pounds I should be a girl, and had decided to call me 'Hosannah,' you will appreciate that it is no ordinary being who is addressing you. A singularly beautiful infant, it was at once obvious that I was born to rule. Several people said it was inevitable, among them an organ-grinder, who was ordered out of the grounds, to which during the excitement he had gained access. He didn't put it that way, but he explained at the police court that that was what he had meant."
"To whose good offices," said Jonah, "do you ascribe your pretty ways?"
"Uranus," was the airy reply. "From that deity came also meekness, an unshakable belief in human nature, and the fidgets."
"You ought to have been called after him," said Adèle.
"My godfathers thought otherwise. In a fit of generosity they gave me my name and a pint pot, which the more credulous declared to be silver, but whose hallmark persistently defied detection. Then the fount dried up. And now let me read your hand. Or would you rather I taught you the three-card trick?"
"It's too dark," I protested. "Besides, she's going to sing."
"Who said so?" said Adèle. "I was going to suggest that you told us a fairy tale."