g us to see his wife's automatic writing, and a farmer had
come down from Concord to tell us of a haunted house and the mysterious
rappings on its walls. Almost in a day I was made aware of the illusory
side of life."

"Why illusory?" asked Brierly.

"Let us call it that for the present," I answered. "Among those who
wrote to us was a woman from Lowell whose daughter had developed strange
powers. Her account, so straightforward and so precise, determined us to
investigate the case. Therefore, our secretary (a young clergyman) and I
took the train for Lowell one autumn afternoon. We found Mrs. Jones
living in a small, old-fashioned frame house standing hard against the
sidewalk, and through the parlor windows, while we awaited the psychic,
I watched an endless line of derby hats as the town's mechanics plodded
by--incessant reminders of the practical, hard-headed world that filled
the street. This was, indeed, a typical case. In half an hour we were
all sitting about the table in a dim light, while the sweet-voiced
mother was talking with 'Charley,' her 'poltergeist'--"

"What is that, please?" asked Mrs. Quigg.

"The word means a rollicking spirit who throws things about. I did not
value what happened at this sitting, for the conditions were all the
psychic's own. By-the-way, she was a large, blond, strapping girl of
twenty or so--one of the mill-hands--not in the least the sickly, morbid
creature I had expected to see. As I say, the conditions were such as to
make what took place of no scientific value, and I turned in no report
upon it; but it was all very curious."

"What happened? Don't skip," bade Mrs. Cameron.

"Oh, the table rapped and heaved and slid about. A chair crawled to my
lap and at last to the top of the table, apparently of its own motion. A
little rocking-chair moved to and fro precisely as if some one were
sitting in it, and so on. It was all unconvincing at the time, but as I
look back upon it now, after years of experience, I am inclined to think
part of it at least was genuine. And this brings me to say to Mrs.
Quigg, and to any other doubter, that you have only to step aside into
silence and shadow and wait for a moment--and the bewildering will
happen, or you will imagine it to happen. I will agree to furnish from
this company a medium that will astonish even our materialistic friend
Miller."

There was a loud outcry: "What do you mean? Explain yourself!"

"I am perfectly certain that if