late returning books. Who was belligerent with the librarians. Who was rowdy in the stacks. What each one looked like and what the stars, the imperishable, whirling stars, told her about their characters.
"To begin with, no tattoos," she said. "I would certainly remember a tattoo. Ugly things, they affect me like the smell of a cheap cigar left smoldering in an ashtray. I have a physical revulsion to them."
"That isn't so good, Jess," Kate said unhappily.
"On the other hand," Miss Moselle said. "I cannot be certain that I have seen the forearms of each of these boys. I try not to look at the forearms of young men. I have a slightly different reaction to them. But no less marked."
Kate and I laughed.
Jessie Moselle blushed bright red and Kate patted her gently on the hand.
"I have the same reaction," she said.
Miss Moselle drew herself up in the chair. "Shall we take these names alphabetically?" she said with great dignity.
I nodded. '
"Then we shall begin with Gerald Arnold. A fine old English name, Arnold. He is a Scorpio, which makes him mercurial," she said, glancing at me. "He is, as I recall, of medium height. Quite slender. With very long blonde hair and rather a ragged beard. He often wore peace emblems and religious symbols on his clothes and about his neck."
"A born-again hippie?" I said.
"Oh, I wouldn't know about that," she said, as if being a Jesus-freak to Miss Moselle were equivalent to membership in some secret society, like the Masons. "He did dress in denim clothing and was often in need of a bath. But I don't think labels like 'hippie' are of much use, do you? Some of my favorite patrons have long hair. Indeed, it wasn't until the last century that short hair became fashionable. It was a Prussian fad, you know. Odious people, the Prussians. I'm sure they thought short hair would be more convenient in warfare."
"And the next one?" I asked. "Haskell Lord?"
"A Capricorn. Which is a very perplexing sign. Half-goat and half-fish, you see. One part pointing downward and the other pointing up. This could be one worth looking into, I think, depending on what house he was born into. Besides, I remember him as being a very disagreeable young man. Darkhaired, swarthy, muscular. With rather a rude manner. I must admit that I haven't seen him about in many months. But he could be sulking. He failed to return his last withdrawal of books and we had to threaten to revoke his card in order to get them back. I believe his brother or his mother finally brought them in."
"And Isaac Mill?"
"A Cancer. A moon sign. He could easily be as mad as a hatter. Which is a peculiar phrase. It comes from the fact, I believe, that hatters used fulminate of mercury to work their felts and the vapors often made them giddy and contentious. Rather like our modern glue-sniffers. I may be being a bit hard on Mr. Mill, as he was a very quiet fellow. Very neat and wellgroomed and polite. But he had a little toothbrush moustache, like Hitler's. And I'm afraid it made me hate him. Oddly enough, we had to threaten him with a final notice, too. He claimed he'd been out of town and hadn't received our first and second notices. I tend to believe it, but I may be leaning too far toward charity since I secretly despised him."
"And finally Lester Towne."
"A Sagittarian," she said with delight. "Sign of philosophers and poets. Although we can be rather impractical, as well. Lester, I'm afraid, is a bit on the impractical side. Quite odd, really, and terribly forgetful. He left his umbrella in the periodical reading room no less than three times last year. And he doesn't seem to be able to hold onto anything else. His mother, who comes here often, tells me that he's lost his job, too."
"Which was?" I said.
"He worked for the coroner's office, I think. Driving an ambulance."
I felt like laughing when Miss Moselle had finished and departed upstairs to help her plump friend at the juvenile desk.
"She could have made it easier," I said to
"To begin with, no tattoos," she said. "I would certainly remember a tattoo. Ugly things, they affect me like the smell of a cheap cigar left smoldering in an ashtray. I have a physical revulsion to them."
"That isn't so good, Jess," Kate said unhappily.
"On the other hand," Miss Moselle said. "I cannot be certain that I have seen the forearms of each of these boys. I try not to look at the forearms of young men. I have a slightly different reaction to them. But no less marked."
Kate and I laughed.
Jessie Moselle blushed bright red and Kate patted her gently on the hand.
"I have the same reaction," she said.
Miss Moselle drew herself up in the chair. "Shall we take these names alphabetically?" she said with great dignity.
I nodded. '
"Then we shall begin with Gerald Arnold. A fine old English name, Arnold. He is a Scorpio, which makes him mercurial," she said, glancing at me. "He is, as I recall, of medium height. Quite slender. With very long blonde hair and rather a ragged beard. He often wore peace emblems and religious symbols on his clothes and about his neck."
"A born-again hippie?" I said.
"Oh, I wouldn't know about that," she said, as if being a Jesus-freak to Miss Moselle were equivalent to membership in some secret society, like the Masons. "He did dress in denim clothing and was often in need of a bath. But I don't think labels like 'hippie' are of much use, do you? Some of my favorite patrons have long hair. Indeed, it wasn't until the last century that short hair became fashionable. It was a Prussian fad, you know. Odious people, the Prussians. I'm sure they thought short hair would be more convenient in warfare."
"And the next one?" I asked. "Haskell Lord?"
"A Capricorn. Which is a very perplexing sign. Half-goat and half-fish, you see. One part pointing downward and the other pointing up. This could be one worth looking into, I think, depending on what house he was born into. Besides, I remember him as being a very disagreeable young man. Darkhaired, swarthy, muscular. With rather a rude manner. I must admit that I haven't seen him about in many months. But he could be sulking. He failed to return his last withdrawal of books and we had to threaten to revoke his card in order to get them back. I believe his brother or his mother finally brought them in."
"And Isaac Mill?"
"A Cancer. A moon sign. He could easily be as mad as a hatter. Which is a peculiar phrase. It comes from the fact, I believe, that hatters used fulminate of mercury to work their felts and the vapors often made them giddy and contentious. Rather like our modern glue-sniffers. I may be being a bit hard on Mr. Mill, as he was a very quiet fellow. Very neat and wellgroomed and polite. But he had a little toothbrush moustache, like Hitler's. And I'm afraid it made me hate him. Oddly enough, we had to threaten him with a final notice, too. He claimed he'd been out of town and hadn't received our first and second notices. I tend to believe it, but I may be leaning too far toward charity since I secretly despised him."
"And finally Lester Towne."
"A Sagittarian," she said with delight. "Sign of philosophers and poets. Although we can be rather impractical, as well. Lester, I'm afraid, is a bit on the impractical side. Quite odd, really, and terribly forgetful. He left his umbrella in the periodical reading room no less than three times last year. And he doesn't seem to be able to hold onto anything else. His mother, who comes here often, tells me that he's lost his job, too."
"Which was?" I said.
"He worked for the coroner's office, I think. Driving an ambulance."
I felt like laughing when Miss Moselle had finished and departed upstairs to help her plump friend at the juvenile desk.
"She could have made it easier," I said to
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