Part 28 (2/2)

_Enter Peter._

Good day, again. I have been waiting for you. The stars are in the ascendant.

_Peter._ I thought they were up in the sky.

_Nelly._ Exactly. Now let me read the lines on your face. The finest gentleman in the land would give half his fortune for those lines.

_Peter._ Then pray, what is my fortune, good woman?

_Nelly._ One that requires gold, with which to cross my hand; and then it would be too cheap.

_Peter._ Gold! Won't a s.h.i.+lling do?

_Nelly._ I wish you good-day, Sir; I thought you were a gentleman.

_Peter._ Well, so I am; but gentlemen are not always very flush of guineas. However, I have one here, and it shall go for my fortune.

[_Gives money._

_Nelly._ The planet, Georgium Sidum, says, that you are the son of the steward, and your name is Bargrove.

_Peter._ Now, that is surprising!

_Nelly._ But Georgium Sidum tells not the truth.

_Peter._ Do the stars ever lie?

_Nelly._ O, the new ones do. They have not been long in the business.

But the old ones never fail.

_Peter._ Astonis.h.i.+ng! and only supposed to be Bargrove's son. Go on, good woman, go on. What do the old planets say?

_Nelly._ Nay, I must stop a little. That is all I can see just now; but more will be revealed to me by-and-bye. What does Artemidorus say in his ninety-ninth chapter, written in double Chaldean before letters were invented?

_Peter._ I don't know. What does he say?

_Nelly._ That you must gain great truths by little ones. So you must tell me all you know about yourself, and I shall be able to find out more.

_Peter._ I was educated with Mr Edward Etheridge; and, when our education was completed, he went into the army and I was sent home to my father's--that is--to Mr Bargrove's.

_Nelly._ I understand.

_Peter._ This Mr Bargrove proposed that I should accompany him every day to obtain a knowledge of agriculture, and employ my evenings in keeping the accounts, that I might be able to succeed him in his office of steward.

_Nelly._ Exactly--but the stars tell me that you did not like it.

_Peter._ Couldn't bear it. Why, my boots, which I am so particular in having well polished, were so loaded with clay the very first time, that I could hardly lift my legs, and I stumbled into a ditch filled with stinging nettles; so I gave it up, and the old gentleman constantly swears that I am no son of his.

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