After perhaps half an hour she sat down again on the couch and looked Lois hard in the face. Then she rubbed her forehead and temples exactly as she had done when she sent her into the stupor, and almost screamed, "You must awaken; you must awaken, Lois, or I shall go mad." There was not a sign of awakening, and heartsick and discouraged Bess sank upon her knees almost exhausted. She prayed softly to her Father in Heaven for help in this awful moment, and then for the last time whispered, "Oh, Lois, Lois, awaken!" and she saw her eyelids begin to move very slightly and then gradually open. "Oh, Lois, you're really awake again; you're awake again. I'm so thankful!" "'Thankful,' Bess, why, what do you mean? What are you doing on your knees by my couch?" "Nothing, Lois, except praying that you'd wake up. Don't you remember anything about to-night?" "No; all I know is that I'm very, very tired and I feel as though I could sleep a week. What happened?" "Why, to-night to prove to the girls that there was such a thing as hypnotism, I put you to sleep and I couldn't make you wake up. I've been frightened almost to death ever since and I'll never, never try to hypnotize anybody again as long as I live. I wish I'd never heard anything about the subject. But you're all right now, and that's all I care about. I've had the most awful experience of my life. Look and see if my hair has turned white. We'd better go to bed now, but I must let the other girls know the first thing in the morning, for they were all as frightened as I." When the psychology class met next morning it was a pretty sober little group that had studied together the night before, and two of them, at least, were a trifle pale. Miss Washburn could not understand what had fallen over the class, for it was generally very lively and at times troublesome. As luck would have it, after she had finished her lecture she called on Bess Johnson to talk on the subject of hypnotism. To the astonishment of the class (excepting, of course, her companions of the night before), who were accustomed to Bess' brilliant recitations, they heard her say, "I know nothing about it," and she turned as pale as though she had seen her father's ghost, and the question was passed on to Gertrude Jackson, next on the list, who discussed it at some length, until the bell rang and the class was dismissed.