“Very valuable among the minxes; worth her weight in half-crowns! I’d give her an engagement any day, pretty bird! Ever seen her driving in a cab? She takes off her gloves and spreads her hands over the apron to get the air. A canary! Anything for me to-night, Eureka? A dove, a mongoose—anything lucky? Give us a chance, mother!”
The lady in vermilion, who had a tuft of golden hair in the midst of her otherwise raven locks, glanced mysteriously at Mr. Moses.
“See anything, mother?” he asked, with theatrical solemnity. “A tiny chunk of luck for tricky little Briskin?”
“I do see something,” said Eureka, in a dim and heavy voice. “It’s just close to you on that table by the brandy.”
Mr. Moses started, and cast a glance of awe at the tumbler.
“My word,” he cried—“my word, mother! What’s the blessed little symbol like? Not a pony fresh from Jerusalem for your believing boy!”
“You must wait a moment. It is not clear,” replied Eureka, slowly and dreamily, fixing her heavy eyes on the brandy-and-soda. “It’s all cloudy.”
“Been imbibing, mother? Has the blessed little symbol been at it again? Briskin’s shock—shocked!”
“It’s getting clearer. It stands in a band of fire.”
“Shade of Shadrach! Apparition of Abednego! Draw it mild and bitter, mother!”