tice, I found among his papers elaborate notes on the
girl's development."

"You amaze me!" exclaimed Serviss. "She seems so normal and so
charming."

"In reality she's the most extraordinary puzzle I have ever undertaken
to solve. It seems, according to Randall, that this power came upon
her soon after the death of her little brother--a couple of years
younger than herself. I'll let you see these notes if you like.
They're very curious; in fact, I brought the book along--I wanted your
opinion of them and your advice as to the girl's treatment."

Serviss leaned forward in growing interest. "By all means let me see
the notes. You begin to throw light on something that puzzled me."

Britt drew a small brown book from his pocket and said: "Your first
thought will be to relate this business to hysteria, and one of
Randall's first entries is a reflection along these lines: 'There is
much inconclusive literature on the shelves of medical libraries on
the subject of hysteria, and many diverse ailments are thrown into
that box of explanations.'" Britt looked up. "He's right there, but he
goes on to slate the medical profession thus: 'The mind of a child,
like any other expanding, growing thing, tends to depart from the
norm--loves apparently to surprise its progenitors. Holding in its
grasp latent tendencies of all ages, of all the race, it may at any
time astound by its sudden expansion in unexpected directions, as well
as by its inexplicable failure to follow ordained grooves.'" Here
Britt paused again. "You can see the old chap was hard hit. He now
gets evolutionary. 'We are all goats, satyrs, and serpents
potentially--even from the neurologist's point of view our minds are
infinitely complex.'"

Serviss said, "All this is wise, but is it pertinent?"

"He's coming at it. 'Now, what we men of medicine call hysteria seems
to be a violent and, in a sense, unaccountable departure from the
norm, induced by the removal of some check--by some deep change in the
nervous constitution. Thus a girl suddenly refuses to eat, has
visions, shouts, and sings uncontrollably, perhaps speaks in an
unknown tongue--she is said to be hysterical. A mother, hearing of the
death of her child, begins to laugh, passes at length into a
cataleptic state, during which a child's voice sounds from her throat;
this, too, is hysteria. A man of forty-five becomes melancholy,
professes to hear music inaudible to others, develops automatic
writing, and