"Then you went to the library and read for a long time?" He sneered. "Did The Voices tell you that I was turned down everywhere on account of my mother's reputation as a medium?" "No; but they said you would oppose the idea of our going abroad, and that you were under discipline." "You're tired, Victor," interposed the mother. "Don't worry over me any more now. I'll get you some coffee." While she was gone on this errand Mrs. Joyce leaned toward Victor and said: "I can understand a part of your feeling, because there was a time when I lived in the world of definite, commonplace things--but you must not oppose your mother's Voices. They are as real to her as anything in this universe. I've _proved_ their reality again and again. As I say, they have advised me in my investments and always right. In a sense--in a very real sense--I owe a part of my wealth to your mother, and the little that she has permitted me to do in return for her aid is trifling. I want to do more. Please be just to your dear little mother, who is truly a marvelous creature and loves you beyond all other earthly things. She lives only for you. If it were not for you she would pass on to the spirit plane to-night." Victor listened to her in a sullen meditation. The whole situation was becoming incredibly fantastic, vaporous as the texture of a dream. Mrs. Joyce went on: "Come to my house to-night for dinner. Never mind the morrow till the morrow comes. Come and talk with some friends of mine--they may help you." He spoke thickly: "I'm much obliged, Mrs. Joyce. I'm grateful for what you've done for us, but to take her money or yours now would be--would be dishonest. I can't let you feed us any longer--we've got to fight this out alone." "What will you do with her Voices?" she asked. "Forget 'em," he answered, curtly. "They'll force you to remember them," she warningly retorted. "I assure you they hold your fate in their hands." Mrs. Ollnee, returning, cut short the discussion, which was growing heated. As he drank his coffee Victor recovered a part of his native courtesy. "I'm going to win out," he said, with kindling eyes. "It would have been a wonder if I had found a job the first day. I'm going to keep going till I wear out my shoes." A knock at the door made his mother start. "Another reporter!" she whispered. "They're pestering me still." Victor rose with a spring. "I'll attend to this reporter business," he said, hotly. "No," interposed Mrs. Joyce; "let me go, please!" He submitted, and she went to meet the intruder. Her quiet, authoritative voice could be heard saying: "Mrs. Ollnee is not able to see any one. That cruel and false article of yesterday has completely upset her.--No, I am only her friend and nurse. I have nothing to say except that the article in the _Star_ was false and malignant."