“Certainly you can. He can be made to dance, talk, make a speech—even tell the truth, perhaps. Try it!” “He said when he came in he had invited some people here to a seance to-night,” said Mrs. Wylie. “It is nearly time to expect them, is it not?” “That’s so. Jump on your pony and go after Esther, Mr. Bartram. How I wish Mr. Cramer were here. It will be a joke for them to find him asleep.” And Tibby’s eyes glowed wickedly, with yellow fire in them. Donald, nothing loth, started upon his errand. “Be sure he does not waken,” he said. “Never fear! I’ll see to that,” she called after him. Poor Alice Cramer had not spoken since the drama began. She was frightened, yet glad in her secret heart. She feared this man so much, it was a satisfaction to see him harmless and sleeping, and Mark would be home before the night was over. “Ah, Mrs. Cramer,” cried Tibby, “just pay no attention to him. I’ll make him go and lay in the corner, if he is in your way.” “Oh, no!” cried Alice, frightened at her daring. “Let him remain where he is. You’re sure you can bring him out when you please?” “Yes, indeed!” Alice stepped about softly, as if in fear she would wake him, while she arranged the furniture in the room. “I am sorry he arranged for a seance here to-night,” she whispered. “Mark will be angry.” “But _he_ isn’t to have one. Don’t you see. It’s _I_ that will have the seance, and he is to dance at it. Oh, you wicked man, I have heard enough about you! Are you not wicked? Answer me!” “Yes, I am wicked,” came from the lips of the slumberer. Tibby clapped her hands with delight. “I can see Sol Garrett coming now,” Alice said, going to the door. “Dear me! What will they say?” “They’ll say Satan is outwitted,” said Mrs. Wylie. “Well, I am sure I hope it is all right,” Alice replied, with a sigh. Before Mr. Garrett reached the house, Donald galloped up from the opposite direction and threw himself from the horse. “How is it, have you got him fast?” he asked, hurrying in. “Yes, but where is Esther?” Donald frowned. “She is either not at home or would not see me,” he said. “And her mother?” “Was nursing a headache and would not see me.” “Ah, then they will not be here. I am so sorry,” murmured Tibby. “Esther ought to see him act the clown’s part.” Mrs. Jenkinson soon arrived, with Auntie Dearborn and the Pemberton twins. Sol Garrett waited to come in with Lissa Bartram, and three or four others soon followed them. They all started back at the sight of the sleeping Professor, and looked at one another inquiringly. “Too much spirits,” said Tibby audaciously. “Why, you don’t say? Has he been drinking?” queried Auntie Dearborn in a loud whisper. “No, he’s overcome by spirits, but not of that kind,” Donald said. “A stronger spirit than his own controls him,” added Mrs. Wylie. “Strong spirits are always dangerous,” giggled Tibby in an aside to Donald. “Weak ones are more so,” he replied in the same tone.