rie was
putting his books together, Mr. Morton asked him where he was going to
spend the week-end.

"Stopping in town," said the boy briefly.

"Oh! I'm going to my brother's cottage. Care to come? Afraid there's
no Catholic church near."

Laurie smiled.

"That wouldn't deter me," he said. "I've made up my mind--"

"Yes?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Laurie. "No--thanks awfully, but I've
got to stop in town."

"Lady Laura's again?"

"Yes."

"Same old game?"

Laurie sat down.

"Look here," he said, "I know you don't mean anything; but I wish
you'd understand."

"Well?"

The boy's face flushed with sudden nervous enthusiasm.

"Do you understand," he said, "that this is just everything to me? Do
you know it's beginning to seem to me just the only thing that
matters? I'm quite aware that you think it all the most utter bunkum;
but, you see, I know it's true. And the whole thing is just like
heaven opening.... Look here ... I didn't tell you half the other
day. The fact is, that I was just as much in love with this girl
as--as a man could be. She died; and now--"

"Look here, what were you up to last Sunday?"

Laurie quieted a little.

"You wouldn't understand," he said.

"Have you done any more of that business?"

"What business?"

"Well--thinking you saw her--All right, seeing her, if you like."

The boy shook his head.

"No. Vincent's away in Ireland. We've been going on other lines."

"Tell me; I swear I won't laugh."

"All right; I don't care if you do.... Well, automatic handwriting."

"What's that?"

Laurie hesitated.

"Well, I go into trance, you see, and--"

"Good Lord, what next?"

"And then this girl writes through my hand," said Laurie deliberately,
"when I'm unconscious. See?"

"I see you're a damned young fool," said Morton seriously.

"But if it's all rot, as you think?"

"Of course it's all rot! Do you think I believe for one instant--" He
broke off. "And so's a nervous breakdown all rot, isn't it, and D.T.?
They aren't real snakes, you know."

Laurie smiled in a superior manner.

"And you're getting yourself absorbed in all this--"

Laurie looked at him with a sudden flash of fanaticism.

"I tell you," he said, "that it's all the world to me. And so would it
be to you, if--"

"Oh, Lord! don't become Salvation Army.... Seen Cathcart yet?"

"No. I haven't the least wish to see Cathcart."

Morton rose, put his pens in the drawer, locked it; slid half a do