After that the renowned Reynaldo attempted to hypnotize a small dog, a little fox terrier that belonged to someone in the audience. The effort was hardly a success, for the fox terrier didn’t seem to realize he was a subject for the professor’s art. But the audience, with the remembrance of the former demonstration, was properly impressed and after a bit the terrier was allowed to go, barking his joy at the release, unharmed to his master. Again the Paris Professor called for volunteers, asking this time for two little girls as he had already demonstrated his power over grown men. The children on the benches behind Cynthia and Nancy giggled and nudged, “You go ... no, you go ... Let M’rie go ... Let Leonie ...” till five had been suggested and the professor, making his choice, called two to the stage. “Oh, there goes my little model,” murmured Cynthia, really distressed. “Can’t we stop her, Nancy?” Nancy shook her head, her eyes on the stage. “I don’t know how we could. After all, the professor is French and we are just outsiders. Better let them handle it themselves.” Cynthia subsided meekly but kept an eye on the little Leonie. What a lovely pose ... and that one ... and the next. Why the child was a born model, a picture in herself! She was also excellent material for the hypnotist, for she immediately obeyed his orders, going to sleep bolt upright in her chair before the professor’s waving, commanding hands. The other little girl, older and of stouter stuff, though not so easy a victim was also finally put to sleep. To Cynthia’s relief Reynaldo used more discretion in this case and satisfied his audience by having the children do a little dance, by having them appear to smell a rose when he gave them an onion, seem to taste something sour when he gave them a bonbon. Then he asked if either of the girls were musical. Someone in the audience volunteered that Marie could sing but that Leonie could not sing a note. He then commanded Leonie to come forward and perform for them. “Sing correctly,” he ordered, and named a little nursery tune known to all French children. The child really had a very pretty voice and performed with considerable credit. Also her friends seemed to think it marvelous that she could sing at all. But Cynthia, stifling a sneeze in her handkerchief, tapped a restless foot on the stone floor. Good, it was going to end! Monsieur Reynaldo had commanded with a sharp clap of his hand beside the ear of each child, that his subjects come awake. M’rie blinked her china blue eyes, smiled timorously and clattered down the steps to join her friends. But Leonie was a different matter. As Cynthia, taking a deep breath of her “Breathex” soaked handkerchief, watched with some interest, then growing apprehension, it seemed that the Professor also was becoming concerned.