"I hope this trip will give you a chance to think it well over, Cly, and I have no doubt that you’ll come to see it as I do." "Oh, I’ll think it over," she replied listlessly. Mr. Payson, having won his point in getting her out of town, shook his head without replying, and prepared to leave the room. But Clytie continued. "At least, I am sure he was sincere in warning you against those mediums you are going to, father." He turned to her, his irritability rekindled by her remark. "That’s exactly what I most dislike about the man," he exclaimed. "If he hadn’t attempted to prejudice me against them I might believe in his own change of heart, or whatever it was. But he went back on the very people with whom he’s been associated for years. Isn’t that suspicious?" "Didn’t he do that to save you from their tricks?" Her voice was low and evidently troubled; she seemed to be attempting to convince herself, rather than her father. "I notice he didn’t explain how they managed to give me my tests," Mr. Payson retorted, shaking his head emphatically. "He seemed to consider me the most simple and credulous person in the world. His statements, at least those he dared to make, were all general ones, and they implied that I was not old enough, or else, perhaps, too old to sift the evidence for myself. They were positively insulting. These mediums have given me proof enough to convince any one. They’ve told me things that couldn’t possibly have been found out by any tricks. Take that about your giving me a copy of _Montaigne_ for my birthday, for instance. How could they have found that out? You hadn’t told any one about it, had you?" "No," said Clytie faintly. "There you are, then!" Mr. Payson wagged his head solemnly. "What did I tell you?" "What else did they say?" Clytie asked anxiously. "Plenty of things. Things I myself didn’t know the truth about till I investigated. Things about my personal affairs, about my past life—oh, so much that I can’t help feeling that there’s something in this business that we don’t understand. Oh!"—he paused for a moment, looking at her—"there was one thing I wanted to ask you about—I forgot to speak of it. It sounded like nonsense, at the time—you know that even spirits are sometimes frivolous and inconsequent—and there were so many other more important communications at the time that it slipped my mind. Vixley’s control said something once about a doll that was buried underneath—" "Oh, I forgot to ring up Mrs. Maxwell," Clytie interrupted, springing up. "I _must_ tell her I’m coming. If I don’t do it right away now I may not catch her—it takes so long to get a long distance connection." She went up to him and putting her arms round his neck, kissed him. "Don’t wait, father, if you’re in a hurry. Good-by!" She walked to the door. "Well, then, I’ll go along down-town," he said. "Be sure and write when you get up there." She left him hurriedly and ran up-stairs.