trances in which he is able to hear distant voices, and
to read sealed letters; this, too, is hysteria. In reality, nothing is
explained.'"

"What of it?" interrupted Serviss. "Let's have the application."

"He makes his point in the next paragraph: 'In conformity with this
habit, when called in by Mrs. Lambert to study her daughter, who had
passed suddenly into deep sleep and was speaking with the voice of her
grandfather, I, with owlish gravity, pronounced her attack a case of
hysteria. "Take her on a little trip," said I. "Keep her well
nourished and out-of-doors, and she will outgrow it."'"

"Very good advice."

"So it was, but mark the sequel: '_She did not outgrow it._' He puts
this in italics. 'The power within her gained in mastery, and, what is
most singular and baffling to me, she continues to be a hearty,
healthy child in all other ways, and yet at times she seems the calm
centre of a whirlwind of invisible forces. Chairs, books, thimbles,
even the piano, move to and fro without visible pushing. Electric
snapping is heard in the carpet under her little feet, and loud
knocking comes upon the walls--'"

"Ah!" exclaimed Serviss, and recalled the knocking at his first visit,
while the girl was at the piano.

"Here he drops into italics again. '_One by one all the familiar
manifestations of the spiritualistic medium are being reproduced by
this pretty maiden here in this mountain home._'"

"Good Lord, what a pity!" exclaimed Serviss.

Britt read on: "'The mother, aggrieved and alarmed by the rude way in
which the girl is buffeted, has been put to her paces to conceal the
topsy-turvy doings of her household. Stones are hurled through the
windows, cabinets are opened by invisible and silent locksmiths, _and
I have seen these things and can offer no explanation_.'" Britt closed
the book. "Right here the old doctor lost his nerve, up to this time
he was a fairly acute observer. His next entry is evidently some weeks
or, possibly, months later. He says: 'Slowly we have learned to
understand the phenomena, but we cannot control them, and the child is
still cruelly embarrassed by intrusive tappings and cracklings as she
visits her friends or as she sits in her seat in school. She has
become afraid to sleep alone, and calls piteously for a light whenever
the noises begin.'"

"The poor child--"

"You may well say that," replied Britt. "She has told me that her time
of greatest trial comes just after the family