"Well, young woman," he said to her, getting up to bring her one of his Bank of England chairs. "The sawbones tell me I have you to thank for my life. And better than that, they feel there are a number of delicate TK's around who can be trained in your diagnostic techniques. This ought to be quite a thing in preventing coronaries."
"Thank you," she said. "I was so frightened that I would let Lefty down a second time."
"A second time?" he said.
"I was wrong about your dying," she reminded him. "I'm wrong so much in my predictions. I guess I'll just have to forget about that."
He looked over at me. "What about it, Lefty? Can we consider Pheola a PC, or is she merely a TK?"
I grinned at him. "She is probably the most accurate PC in the Lodge," I said to him. His eyebrows went up, and Pheola shook her head.
"Accurate," I repeated, "if you'll let me define accuracy."
"Define it."
"According with some definite series of future events," I said. "That's my definition."