“O! Hannah! for God’s sake, don’t call me by that name!” cried poor Ricardo, with both his fingers in his ears. “Well! I’m sure!” exclaimed his wife. “I s’pose _she_ called you by it, or summat very similar, but I ain’t good enough, eh? Well! since I’ve a right to it, I’m going to use it, and so I tells you straight, and the sooner you gets accustomed to it, the better. ’Tain’t much as I got by marrying of you, Markiss, so you might as well leave me the name. ’Twon’t bring in bread and butter anyway!” “I know it, and what is the use of using a title which you cannot keep up in appearance? We have only enough money to live on, and I see no chance of our ever having more.” “I don’t know about that!” replied the girl, with a cunning look, “I know of a way by which money could be made, and pretty sharp, too.” “What do you mean? If you are correct, you will find me willing enough to take advantage of it!” “Well! you just give out as I can make the sperrits and things walk about the room, and make folks pay to come and see them, and you’d make a fortune. I’ve ’eard Steinberg say so, times out of mind!” “O! no! no!” exclaimed the Professor, in disgust. “What! make the vision of my Leonora common property? Let every Jack and Jill, who has the money to enable them, come and gape at her, sharers with me in this heavenly pleasure! Never! Hannah, never! I cannot prevent your adopting my title if you refuse to comply with my request that you should not do so, but I utterly forbid your turning your divine gift into a merchandise. I am afraid you have never estimated it at its real value!” “No! I can’t say I see much fun in it myself,” replied Hannah, grinning, “but it got me out of a precious muddle, didn’t it? I don’t know what I should have done at that time, Professor, if you ’adn’t taken a fancy to sperrits and things!” “You appear to have conquered all your fear of them, Hannah,” remarked the Professor, musingly. “You have altered in many ways lately! I never hear you object to the cabinet now, nor express terror of the spirits, in any way.” “I’ve no call left to be feared of them,” replied his wife, still grinning, as if her mediumship were an excellent joke. “They’re allays after me, day and night! I’ve got so used to them, that I don’t take no more notice of them than I do of you. Let them go on with their larks, and leave me to go on with mine!” “And your father and mother, and Joe, Hannah?” continued the Professor, a little wistfully; “do you never think of them now, either?” It seemed as if he would have liked to hear her say that she still hankered after her people and her home. But her grin remained unabated. “Not often,” she replied; “they ain’t no good to me now! As for Joe, he may go to the devil for aught I care!” “O! hush! hush! hush!” cried the Professor.