I was at the theatre one night with Bessie in a box, when I found out that "Dewdrop" had taken her place. "Dewdrop" was very fond of going to the play, and her remarks were so funny and so naïve as to keep one constantly amused. Presently, between the acts, she said to me, "Do you see that man in the front row of the stalls with a bald head, sitting next to the old lady with a fat neck?" I replied I did. "Now you watch," said "Dewdrop;" "I'm going down there to have some fun. First I'll tickle the old man's head, and then I'll scratch the old woman's neck. Now, you and 'Medie' watch." The next moment Bessie spoke to me in her own voice, and I told her what "Dewdrop" proposed to do. "Oh, poor things!" she said, compassionately, "how she will torment them!" To watch what followed was a perfect farce. First, the old man put his hand up to his bald head, and then he took out his handkerchief and flicked it, then he rubbed it, and finally _scrubbed_ it to alleviate the increasing irritation. Then the old lady began the same business with her neck, and finding it of no avail, glared at the old man as if she thought _he_ had done it; in fact, they were both in such evident torture that there was no doubt "Dewdrop" had kept her promise. When she returned to me she said, "There! didn't you see me walking along the front row of stalls, in my moccasins and beads and feathers, and all my war-paint on, tickling the old fellow's head?" "I didn't _see_ you, 'Dewdrop,'" I answered, "but I'm sure you were there." "Ah! but the old fellow _felt_ me, and so did the old girl," she replied. Bessie Fitzgerald is now Mrs. Russell Davies, and carries on her _séances_ in Upper Norwood. No one who attends them can fail to feel interested in the various phenomena he will meet with there. CHAPTER XIX. THE MEDIUMSHIP OF LOTTIE FOWLER.