“Is it upon the housetop, mother, having a spree all on its little alone?”
“No; it is hovering over the gentleman.”
“What does that mean?” said the Prophet, anxiously.
But at this point Eureka suddenly seemed to lose interest in the matter. “Oh, you’re all right,” she said carelessly. “I’m tired. I should like a wafer.”
“Mother’s peckish. Mother, I see an ostrich by your left elbow. That’s a sign that you’re so peckish you could swallow anything. Waiter!”
“Sir!”
“This lady’s so peckish she could eat anything. Bring her some tin-tacks and a wafer. Stop a sec. Another brandy for Briskin. Your calves’d do for the front row; ‘pon my word, they would. Trot, boy, trot!”
“I must speak to you alone for one moment,” whispered the Prophet to Miss Minerva, under cover of the quips of Mr. Moses. “Sir Tiglath’s coming!”
Miss Minerva started.
“Sir Tig—” she exclaimed and put her finger to her lips just in time to stop the “lath” from coming out. “Mr. Moses, I’m going to the buffet for a moment with Mr. Vivian. Eureka, darling, do eat something substantial! All this second sight takes it out of you.”