ce and form of their son to
their satisfaction of his identity. They told remarkable tales of seeing
and hearing Peter Boots, until Julie ran out of the room lest she voice
her disapproval too strongly. For Julie Crane, though an absolute
unbeliever in Madame Parlato and all her works, was a devoted daughter,
and would do nothing to disturb the happiness her parents felt in the
_seances_ with the medium.

But one performance fairly staggered the group of listeners to whom the
Cranes recounted it.

They returned from the medium's to find the young people sitting round
the hospitable Crane fireside. It was mid March and the weather still
allowed of the cheerful open fire.

Carlotta was there and Shelby, and Blair and Thorpe, with Julie, of
course, made up the little party.

"The most marvelous yet!" Benjamin Crane exclaimed, as he drew near the
fire. "Julie, dear, if you don't want to hear, run away, for I must tell
about it."

But Julie stayed, and her parents told the story.

It seemed the medium had promised them something very definite by way of
proof, and she had certainly kept her promise.

The materialization of Peter had taken place, and, as the spirit form
slowly dissolved and faded from their view, there was left behind, lying
on the table, an object that had not been there before.

It was a tobacco pouch, old and worn, and bearing Peter's initials.

Julie looked at it with horror-stricken eyes, as her father produced it
from his pocket.

"Why," she gasped, "it's the one I gave him on his birthday."

"Not really!" cried Shelby, and both he and Blair leaned eagerly forward
to look.

"It's the one he always carried with him in Labrador," Blair said, with
an expression of blank wonderment. "How did it get down here?"

"I offer no explanation, save the true one," Benjamin Crane said,
seriously. "That is, as you see, a real object. It is Peter's property.
You, Blair, recognize it. Do you, Shelby?"

"I do," Shelby replied, his eyes staring at the thing.

"Julie recognized it at once," went on Crane. "So there's no doubt of
its identity. Now, I submit that it would be impossible for Madame
Parlato to have come by this in any natural way, therefore it is
supernatural."

"Supernatural!" McClellan Thorpe exclaimed, with utter scorn in his
voice. "How could that be, sir?"

"It was materialized by my son, Peter," Crane returned, looking at
Thorpe, calmly. "That may seem incredible to you, but it is not