So the three set out together.
The house they sought was in a retired side-street. In front was a portico supported by four pillars, and to each pillar a dog was chained. The first dog was white, the second black, the third spotted, and the fourth striped. Over the portico was written in large letters—
“I am Sir Oracle, and When I Speak Let no Dog Bark.”
The ground-gnome began to muzzle the dogs one after another, and whilst he did so the maker of ghosts and the maker of shadows sent in their cards.
They were shown into Sir Oracle′s study, which was built of india-rubber to ensure perfect quiet. Having made known their wishes, the learned individual pondered a few moments, then wrung his hands, and the ground-gnome answering the summons, he said briefly—
“Wind me up, if you please.”
The ground-gnome dipped a large towel in water, squeezed it out, and wound it round his master′s head. By his side he placed a cup of the strongest coffee and his long pipe ready to his hand. Then, motioning to the maker of ghosts and his friend, they all retired, and left the sage to his meditations.
“When the wisdom begins to ooze from every pore,” explained the ground-gnome, ”Sir Oracle will smoke; as he smokes the wisdom will enter the smoke wreaths, and you can then take down the message in writing.”
They waited outside on the doormat; every now and again the attendant-gnome put his eye to the keyhole. At length he beckoned and whispered, “Enter, and take the answer.”
So the two went in on tiptoe alone. It was an impressive sight. There sat Sir Oracle, the empty cup before him, his eyes closed, and the smoke wreaths from the first whiff hovering above his head until it settled on the ceiling in the form of a word. So smoke wreath succeeded smoke wreath and word word, until the answer was there plainly to be read—
“Who′d Fortune woo
Must have these two—
Common-sense,
Experience.”
After taking down the rhyme, the maker of ghosts and the maker
