He listened with growing coldness and hardness. "That's all a delusion," he repeated. "Modern science has proved that mediumship is just plain hysteria." "We won't argue," she replied, and her tone was that of one hurt. "I _know_, for I have had the personal experience. I am only a leaf in the wind when this power sweeps over me. So long as I live I must remain the instrument of these our supernal friends--it is my work in the world, and I must execute it." "What do you expect me to do?" he asked, almost brutally. "I'd like you to go back to your studies--" "That I will not do," he assured her in tones that expressed a final decision. "Well then--will you remain here with me?" "Not with you carrying on the business which I hate." "Why should you hate it? To Leo and Mrs. Joyce my mission is noble." "I hate it because I think it's foolish, unnatural, and false. I don't mean that you _consciously_ cheat, mother, but I am certain that in some way it all comes down to that." She opened her arms in a gesture of passionate appeal. "My son, these Voices have educated you--they have helped me to feed and clothe you. Now here I am, prove me, try me, convict me if you can. I yield myself to your tests. I _know_ the spirit life is a reality. If I did not I should perish with despair. Every day, almost all hours of the day, these Voices whisper in my ears. The hands of those you call the dead caress my cheek. They cheer and admonish me. They are as real to me as you are. If you can silence them, do so. I put myself into your hands. Do what you will in proof of my powers." The boy was rapidly changing to the man. His mother's words beating upon his brain aroused something in him which he had not hitherto acknowledged. He thought deeply as he peered into her eyes, burning with resolution. "She is honest--but she is the victim of a fixed idea." He had heard much of "the fixed idea." "I will try her, I will rid her of her obsession." Aloud he said: "The important thing is our living. How am I to pay my way? I haven't a cent. I paid out my last penny for this coffee." "I have a little money." "I told you I wouldn't take another dollar of your money, and I won't," he replied, sharply. "That's settled. I must get clear and keep clear of all this 'bunk.'" "But suppose you find my powers real?" she asked, trembling with eagerness. He hesitated. "Then--well--if I believed in your powers I would still object to your earning money with--by means of your--your Voices. I've got to make my own way in the world, and from this moment!" She read an unmitigable opposition in his eyes and sadly said, "You'll come here to sleep, won't you?"