“Oh! Mrs. Lucien, Mrs. Lucien, the next will be for you,” she whispered. As if to confirm her words a figure of light advanced, so clear, so luminous, so fair that a suppressed murmur arose from the spectators. It seemed to float through the air and hover suspended before the cabinet. Mrs. Lucien had arisen and moved forward with outstretched arms. “Mamma, mamma!” a bird-like voice repeated, and fluttering like a bird in the air the tiny hands brushed the white face of the entranced woman. Then by its side a second figure appeared, larger but less distinct. For a moment they hovered flutteringly before her, then disappeared, and the usher led the now nearly fainting Mrs. Lucien to her seat. Another figure appeared, a man. A woman behind Mrs. Wylie arose and went forward. “O Jim!” she cried. “I have been so sorry,” a feeble, moaning voice replied, “that I did not do more for you when in the flesh. I had no opportunity, before I passed over, to tell you what was in my heart. I realize now that I blighted your life by selfishly yielding to my appetite. I would undo it all if I could, but it is too late.” With a groan he disappeared. Then a little boy ran out from the cabinet and cried: “I want my mash!” “Oh, that is little Eddie!” exclaimed a girl from the audience, and she ran forward to clasp the little figure in her arms. At last came a figure of beauty and light, with extended, fluttering hands and eager face. “This is for you,” said the usher, coming toward Mrs. Wylie, who felt bound to her chair and unable to move. As the man approached her she felt as though her heart ceased to beat, but she passively suffered him to lead her to the cabinet. “Sister, sister,” whispered the little sprite, and its tiny hands sought to take hers. She felt the soft, cool touch of its hand upon her own, then drew back with uncontrollable fear. “She wants to kiss you,” said the man, but Mrs. Wylie was too terrified to permit it. Then the figure, so transparent and ethereal, vanished in the cabinet and again all was darkness. When Mrs. Wylie was again seated there was a sound as of rushing wind, and two little Indian girls came running out of the cabinet. One ran back. The other called her out again. “This is little Moonlight. Come on!” said number one. “Good-evening, everybody!” said number two timidly. Number one laughed and danced about, while number two ran back into the cabinet. “Dance for us, Starlight,” said a gentleman who seemed to recognize her as a well-known favorite. “Mne! No music,” she said. The gentleman began to whistle. “No, no good,” cried Starlight. Mrs. Wylie could never after account for the influence which prompted her to lean forward and clap her hands to the time of a waltz, while she hummed a gay air. “Mne! That’s good!” cried Starlight, and her little feet kept time with the grace of a ballet-dancer.