he vaudeville stage to-morrow. I give you my word I am acting in
entire good faith. I am quite as eager for the truth as any of
you.--But, hark! the cone is on the wing again."

The megaphone was indeed moving, as if a weak, unskilled hand were
struggling with it, and at last it swung feebly into the air, and a
whisper that was hardly more than a breath was directed toward Mrs.
Quigg: "_Daughter!_"

"Are you speaking to me?" she asked, in a voice that trembled a little.

The answer was but a sibilant sigh: "_Yes._"

"Who are you?"

"_Mother._"

The answer was so faint that no one save Mrs. Quigg could distinguish
the word. Almost at the same moment I caught the sound of other moving
lips in the air just before me. "Who is it?" I asked. Like a little,
hopeless sigh the answer came: "_Jessie._" This was the name of my
younger sister. Then the cone dropped as though falling from exhausted
hands, and I had no further message from this "spirit."

As we waited breathlessly the clear, silver-sweet voice of a little girl
was heard by every one at the table. "_Good-evening, everybody. I am
Maud; I came with my mamma. I have come to ask you to be very kind to
her._"

"I am very glad to hear you, 'Maud,'" I answered. "Are there other
spirits present?"

"_Yes, many, many spirits. My grandpa is here; he is treating my mamma
so that she will not be sick. Some one is here to see you, but is too
weak to speak. My grandpa says 'we are trusting you.'_"

With astonishing clearness this voice created in my mind (not as light
would create it) the vision of a self-contained, womanly little girl,
whose voice and accent formed a curious silvery replica of the
psychic's, and yet I could not say that the psychic's vocal organs gave
out these words. At last she said "_Good-bye_," and the cone was softly
laid upon the table.

All of this was performed in profound silence. There was no sound in the
cone, except that of the voice, no rustle of garments, no grasp of
fingers on the tin; and though I leaned far over, and once more placed
my ear close to the psychic's lips, I could not trace the slightest
movement connecting her with the movements on the table. I had the
conviction at the moment that she sat in a death-like trance at my side.

A few moments later the cone was jammed together and thrown upon the
floor--a movement, I had learned to know, that announced that the
sitting was ended.

While the sitters still waited, I said: "