Leo answered: "I was just suggesting that Mr. Ollnee become a chauffeur. He could go on with his studies--" "Capital!" exclaimed Mr. Joyce. "The man I have is liable to drink and very crusty in the bargain. You may have his place." "I'm afraid I wouldn't do," he responded. "I might get crusty, too." "I hope you are not liable to drink," said Leo. "No, sarsaparilla is my only tipple. But this is all Miss Wood's joke," he explained. "I'm not joking, indeed I'm not," the girl retorted. "I don't know of any skill that is more in demand just now than that of a chauffeur. I know of one who is studying the piano. I don't see any reason why Mr. Ollnee should not take it up temporarily. It's perfectly honorable. Witness Bernard Shaw's play." "Oh, I'm not looking down on any job just now," he disclaimed. "All I ask is a chance to earn a living while I'm finding out what my best points are." Mr. Wood beckoned and Leo rose to meet him. "We must be off," he said. Victor bade Leo good-night with such feeling of intimacy and friendliness as he had not hoped to attain for any one connected with Mrs. Joyce. There was something in the pressure of her hand and in the sympathetic tone of her voice at the last that he remembered with keen pleasure. Mr. Carew was deep in conversation with Mrs. Ollnee, and Victor drew near with intent to know what was being said. The lawyer was very gentle, very respectful, but Mrs. Ollnee was undergoing a thorough investigation at his hands. He represented the calm, slow-spoken, but very keen inquisitor, and the psychic was already feeling the force of his delicate, yet penetrating sarcasm. "I would advise you not to trust your Voices in matters that relate to life, limb, or fortune," he said, suavely, and a veiled threat ran beneath his words. "These Voices may be deceiving you." Mrs. Ollnee protested with vehemence. "Mr. Carew, I am content to put my _soul_ into their keeping." He bowed and smiled. "Your faith is very wonderful." Then he added, with a glance at Mrs. Joyce, who was listening, "For myself, I would not put my second-best coat in their keeping." Mrs. Joyce intervened at this point, and, after some little discussion of a conventional topic, offered to send Victor and his mother home in her car. Victor was not pleased by her offer. It was only putting him just that much deeper into her debt, but he could not well refuse, especially as his mother accepted it as a matter of course. On the way he took up the question of Carew's warning. "He's right, mother. You must stop advising people to buy or sell." "Why so, Victor?" "Suppose you should advise buying the wrong thing?" "But they don't advise the wrong thing, Victor. They are always right." "Always?" "Nobody has ever reported a failure," she declared. "Well, it's sure to come. Why should father or grandfather know any more about stocks now than he did before he died?"