d them upon the stand.

Suddenly the hand woke to vigorous action. Seizing the pencil as a dog
might lay hold upon a bone, it began to write slowly, firmly, while
Viola watched it, quietly, detachedly, as if it were something
entirely separate from her brain. At the end it tore the leaf from the
pad and flung it to the floor.

Mrs. Lambert picked it up. "It is from father," she said; "but it is
for you."

Kate took the leaf, on which was written, in a firm, round,
old-fashioned hand, these words: "Your aunt is here, and asks that you
and your brother pay her debt. She is angry because it has not been
done."

"I have no knowledge of any such debt," said Kate. "I don't understand
this."

The hand was writing again, busily, imperturbably, and the color was
coming back into Viola's face. As Kate waited, her awe began to pass,
and doubts came thronging back upon her. There was something farcical
in all this.

Again the hand flung its message, and again the mother picked it from
the floor.

"This also is from father," she announced, with more of excitement
than she had hitherto betrayed.

The message began abruptly: "The doubter may be convinced if he will
but put himself in the way of it. The life of my granddaughter is more
valuable to-day than that of any king or queen. Her mission is to open
the door between the two worlds. She is here ready for the test. Let
the men of science come to her and be convinced of the life beyond
the grave." It was signed with an elaborate rubric "McLeod."

"Who is this message for, father?" asked Mrs. Lambert. "Mrs. Rice?"

A violent thump answered "No."

"Maybe it's for my brother," suggested Kate.

Three tremendous thumps upon the underside of the table gave
affirmative answer.

Kate was quite restored to her ruddy self. "Very well, I will see that
he gets it."

Viola now spoke wearily, but quite in her natural voice again. "There
is no test in that kind of a message. I didn't write it--I had nothing
to do with it; but you or Professor Serviss would be justified in
thinking I did. Grandpa wanted me to go into a trance. This kind of
writing is a compromise."

"But what of my aunt who spoke through you?" asked Kate.

Viola stared at her blankly, and her mother laid a warning hand on
Kate's arm. "She knows nothing of these impersonations," she said.

"What did I do?" asked Viola. "I hope nothing ridiculous."

"Mrs. Rice's aunt spoke through you, that's all," answered M