A few forms, after this, came farther from the cabinet, and their friends were permitted to embrace them. These favored few sat on the front seats. Whispered dialogues took place—innocuous talk of troubles and happiness, perturbed commonplaces that, had they not been sometimes accompanied with genuine tears, would have been nothing but ridiculous. The spirits were all optimistic and willing to help. Their advice, usually, consisted of the statement that "conditions would soon be more favorable." At intervals the singers broke out into new songs, There’s a Land that is Fairer than Day—_Nearer, My God, to Thee!_—and so on. The air became oppressively close. The audience began to whisper, cough and shuffle. Mabel, desirous of excitement, had nudged Dougal again and again, but he had muttered "Not yet!" at each hint. The song _Over There_ had just ended, and the hush of expectancy had fallen over the company when another form appeared and took a step towards Vixley. "She says her name is Felicia," he announced. "Does anybody recognize her?" "I do!" an unctuously mellow voice replied. "She says she has a message for you," said Vixley, "but she don’t want to give it out loud before all these people. Will you come up here?" Mr. Payson made his way with difficulty, in the dark, past those on his row and came forward. "You can touch her, if you want to; she’s completely materialized. Very strong indeed for one outside Flora’s band. She ain’t got much vitality, though, and you mustn’t tax her too much." The old man reached forward and touched a cold hand. "Is it you, Felicia?" he asked tremulously. "Yes, dear!" was the answer, in a thick, hoarse whisper. "I’m glad to see you here. You must come often. I’ve tried so hard to get you. I want to help you." "You have a message for me?" She whispered, "Yes; it’s about the child." "What is it?" His voice was eager. "I’ve found him." "Oh, I’m so glad! I’ve longed so to find him and do what was right by him. You know, don’t you?" All this was spoken so low that but few could make out the words. "Yes, I know. I know you love him." "Where is he, Felicia?" "He’s in this city. I shall bring him to you. Then we’ll be so happy, all three of us—you and I and our dear son!" Payson’s voice rang out sharply in an angry exclamation: "It’s all a damned fraud!" he cried. "This is not a spirit at all!" He took a step forward. On the instant, before even Vixley could move, Dougal had jumped up and run forward. As he dashed up the aisle he pressed the key of his electric torch and cast a bright light upon the group by the cabinet. The draped form had started back, Payson faced her, Vixley had risen from his chair fiercely, Flora Flint’s startled face peered through the curtains.