She was a little nettled by his tone. "They have the constant advice of a great financier on that side." "So Miss Wood told me. Who is this great financier who is so willing to help you decide what to do with other people's money?" he asked, cuttingly. She hesitated a little before saying "Commodore Vanderbilt." He could not keep back a derisive shout. "Vanderbilt! Well, and you believe 'the great commodore' comes to our little hole of a home to advise us? Oh, mother, that's too ridiculous." "My son," she began with some asperity, "we've been all over that ground before. You don't realize how you hurt, how you dishonor me when you doubt me and laugh at me." He felt the pain in her voice and began an apology. "I don't mean to laugh at you, mother. But you must remember that I have been a student for four years in the atmosphere of a great university, and all this business--I've got to be honest with you--it's all raving madness to me. You certainly must stop advising in business matters. Mr. Carew to-night intended to give you warning." "I know he did," she quietly responded. "He meant to be kind. He meant to say that you were liable at any moment to be held accountable for advice that went wrong. He told me that the courts were full of cases where mediums had led people into willing their property away, or where they had juggled with somebody else's fortunes. He told me of having convicted one woman of this and of having sent her to jail." "But have I prospered from these advices?" she asked, indignantly. "Can any one accuse me of getting rich out of my 'work'? Please consider that." "That does puzzle me. I can't see why 'they' help others and leave us with a bare living. And, most important of all, why do 'they' permit you to be hounded this way? Why didn't 'they' warn you? Why don't 'they' help me?" She sighed submissively. "Of course they have their own reasons. In good time all will be revealed to us. They are wiser than we, for all the past and all the future are unrolled before their eyes." This reply silenced him. Small and gentle as she was, Victor realized that she could resist with the strength of iron when it came to an assault upon her faith. Above the knob of their own door they found a folded newspaper, and this Victor seized with misgiving. "I wonder what is coming next?" he said. She paled with a definite premonition of trouble. "Open it at once," she commanded. He was as eager as she, for he, too, foresaw some new attack upon their peace. Lighting the gas, he opened the paper with trembling hands. On the first page was his own photograph and the story of his leaving college to defend his mother. Everything, even to the parting with Frenson, was set down, luridly, side by side with the report of a celebrated murder trial. At sight of this new indignity his sense of youth and weakness came back upon him and, crumpling up the paper, he flung it upon the floor in impotent rage.