She went to the High Street first and made her purchases, and was on the
way back again when, in response to a sudden impulse, as she passed the
end of Crowner's Alley, she turned into that small by-way and knocked at
the astrologer's door.
A slow, dragging footstep was heard approaching in reply to the summons,
and the astrologer, recognising his visitor as one of his most faithful
and credulous clients, invited her to step inside. Mrs. Gimpson
complied, and, taking a chair, gazed at the venerable white beard and
small, red-rimmed eyes of her host in some perplexity as to how to begin.
"My daughter's coming round to see you presently," she said, at last.
The astrologer nodded.
"She--she wants to ask you about 'er husband," faltered' Mrs. Gimpson;
"she's going to bring a friend with her--a man who doesn't believe in
your knowledge. He--he knows all about my daughter's husband, and he
wants to see what you say you know about him."
The old man put on a pair of huge horn spectacles and eyed her carefully.
"You've got something on your mind," he said, at last; "you'd better tell
me everything.
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