“I know, I know,” said Fisher, “and what she said about your friends being lucky—that went a great way with many,” added he, with a sagacious nod of his head; “I can tell you _that_—more than you think. Do you know,” said he, laying hold of Archer’s button, “I’m in the secret. There are nine of us have crooked our little fingers upon it, not to stir a step till we get her advice; and she has appointed me to meet her about particular business of my own at eight. So I’m to consult her and to bring her answer.” Archer knew too well how to govern fools, to attempt to reason with them; and, instead of laughing any longer at Fisher’s ridiculous superstition, he was determined to take advantage of it. He affected to be persuaded of the wisdom of the measure; looked at his watch; urged him to be exact to a moment; conjured him to remember exactly the words of the oracle; and, above all things, to demand the lucky hour and minute when the Barring Out should begin. With these instructions Archer put his watch into the solemn dupe’s hand, and left him to count the seconds, till the moment of his appointment, whilst he ran off himself to prepare the oracle. At a little gate which looked into a lane, through which he guessed that the gipsy must pass, he stationed himself, saw her, gave her half a crown and her instructions, made his escape, and got back unsuspected to Fisher, whom he found in the attitude in which he had left him, watching the motion of the minute hand. Proud of his secret commission, Fisher slouched his hat, he knew not why, over his face, and proceeded towards the appointed spot. To keep, as he had been charged by Archer, within the letter of the law, he stood _behind_ the forbidden building, and waited some minutes. Through a gap in the hedge the old woman at length made her appearance, muffled up, and looking cautiously about her. “There’s nobody near us!” said Fisher, and he began to be a little afraid. “What answer,” said he, recollecting himself, “about my Livy?” “Lost! lost! lost!” said the gipsy, lifting up her hands; “never, never, never to be found! But no matter for that now; that is not your errand to-night; no tricks with me; speak to me of what is next your heart.” Fisher, astonished, put his hand upon his heart, told her all that she knew before, and received the answers that Archer had dictated: “That the Archers should be lucky as long as they stuck to their manager, and to one another; that the Barring Out should end in woe, if not begun precisely as the clock should strike nine on Wednesday night; but if begun in that _lucky_ moment, and all obedient to their _lucky_ leader, all should end well.” A thought, a provident thought, now struck Fisher; for even he had some foresight where his favourite passion was concerned. “Pray, in our Barring Out shall we be starved?”