“Just completed,” Madame Vesant answered with brisk self-confidence. “You realize, of course, that young Smith’s horoscope presented an unusual and very difficult problem in the Science. Born, as he was, on another planet, every aspect and attitude had to be recalculated. The influence of the Sun is lessened; the influence of Diana is missing almost completely. Jupiter is thrown into a novel, perhaps I should say ‘unique,’ aspect, as I am sure you will see. This required computation of—”

“Allie! Never mind that. Do you know the answers?”

“Naturally.”

“Oh, thank goodness! I thought perhaps you were trying to tell me that it was too much for you.”

Madame Vesant showed and sincerely felt injured dignity. “My dear, the Science never alters; only the configurations alter. The means that predicted the exact instant and place of the birth of Christ, that told Julius Caesar the moment and method of his death . . . how could it fail now? Truth is Truth, unchanging.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Are you ready for the readings?”

“Let me switch on ‘recording’— go ahead.”

“Very well. Agnes, this is a most critical period in your life; only twice before have the heavens gathered in such strong configuration. Above all, you must be calm, not hasty, and think things through. On the whole the portents are in your favor . . . provided you do not fight them and avoid ill-considered action. Do not let your mind be distressed by surface appearances—” She went on at length, giving good advice. Becky Vesey always gave good advice and she gave it with great conviction because she always believed it. She had learned from Simon that, even when the stars seemed darkest, there was always some way to soften the blow, some aspect which the client could use toward greater happiness . . . if she would only find it and point it out.

The tense face opposite her in the screen calmed and began nodding agreement as she made her points. “So you see,” she concluded, “the mere temporary absence of young Smith at this time is not a bad thing, but a necessity, resulting from the joint influences of your three horoscopes. Do not worry and do not be afraid; he will be back—or you will hear from him—very shortly. The important thing is to take no drastic or irrevocable action until that time. Be calm.”

“Yes, I see that.”

“Just one more point. The aspect of Venus is most favorable and potentially dominant over that of Mars. In this case, Venus symbolizes yourself, of course, but Mars is both your husband and young Smith—as a result of the unique circumstance of his birth. This throws a double burden on you and you must rise to the challenge; you must demonstrate those qualities of calm wisdom and restraint which are peculiarly those of woman. You must sustain your husband, guide him through this crisis, and soothe him. You must supply the earth-mother’s calm wells of wisdom. That is your special genius . . . and now is the time you must use it.”

Mrs. Douglas sighed. “Allie, you are simply wonderful! I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank the Ancient Masters whose humble student I am.”

“I can’t thank them so I’ll thank you. This isn’t covered by your retainer, Allie. There will be a present.”

“Not necessary at all, Agnes. It is my privilege to serve.”

“And it is my privilege to appreciate service. No, Allie, not another word!”

Madame Vesant let herself be coaxed, then switched off, feeling warmly content from having given a reading that she just knew was right. Poor Agnes! Such a good woman inside . . . and so twisted up with conflicting desires. It was a privilege to smooth her path a little, make her heavy burdens a little easier to carry. It made her feel good to help Agnes.

It made Madame Vesant feel good to be treated as an almost-equal by the wife of the Secretary General, too, although she did not think of it that way, not being snobbish at heart. But young Becky Vesey had been so insignificant that the precinct committeeman could never remember her name even though he noticed her bust measurement. Becky Vesey had not resented it; Becky liked people. She liked Agnes Douglas now.

Becky Vesey liked everybody.

She sat a while longer, enjoying the warm glow and the respite from pressure and just a nip more of the tonic, while her shrewd and able brain shuffled the bits and pieces she had picked up. Presently, without consciously making a decision, she called her stockbroker and instructed him to sell Lunar Enterprises short.

He snorted. “Allie, you’re crazy. That reducing diet is weakening your mind.”

“You listen to me, Ed. When it is down ten points, cover me, even if it is still slipping. Wait for it to turn. When it rallies three points, buy into it again . . . then sell when it gets back to today’s closing.”