"Don't be afraid of me," she said. "I may look crooked, but I'm not. Your mother wouldn't mind my knowing you." She held Athalie's narrow hand for a moment, and the girl looked into the faded eyes. "Thank you for coming," she said. "I _was_ lonely." "Good girls usually are. It's a hell of an alternative, isn't it? I don't mean to be profane; hell is the word. It's hell either way for a girl alone." Athalie nodded silently. Mrs. Bellmore looked at her, then glanced around the room, curiously. "Hello," she said abruptly, "what's that?" Athalie's eyes followed hers: "Do you mean the crystal?" "Yes.... Say--" she turned to Athalie, nodding profound emphasis on every word she uttered:--"Say, I _thought_ there was something else to you--something I couldn't quite get next to. Now I know what's been bothering me about you. You're clairvoyant!" Athalie's cheeks grew warm: "I am not a medium," she said. "That crystal is not my own." "That may be. Maybe you don't think you are a medium. But you are, Miss Greensleeve. _I_ know. I'm a little that way, too,--just a very little. Oh, I could go into the business and fake it of course,--like all the others--or most of them. But you are the real thing. Why," she exclaimed in vexation, "didn't I know it as soon as I laid eyes on you? I certainly was subconscious of something. Why you could do anything you pleased with the power you have if you'd care to learn the business. There's money in it--take it from me!" Athalie said, after a few moments of silence: "I don't think I understand. Is there a way of--of developing clear vision?" "Haven't you ever tried?" "Never.... Except when a little while ago I went over to the crystal and--and tried to find--somebody." "Did you find--that person?" "No." Mrs. Bellmore shook her fat head: "You needn't tell me any more. You can't ever do yourself any good by crystal gazing--you poor child." Athalie's head dropped. "No, it's no use," said the other. "If you go into the business and play square you can sometimes help others. But I guess the crystal is mostly fake. Mrs. Del Garmo had one like yours. She admitted to me that she never saw anything in it until she hypnotised herself. And she could do that by looking steadily at a brass knob on a bed-post; and see as much in it as in her crystal." The fat woman lighted another cigarette and blew a contemplative whiff toward the crystal: "No: at best the game is a crooked one, even for the few who have really any occult power." "Why?" asked the girl, surprised.