The fourth stanza was here interrupted by three sharp knocks.
"Is that you, Starlight?" the medium asked. Two raps signified assent.
"Are you happy, to-night?" Two more knocks.
"Starlight's always happy!" Vixley remarked aloud.
"Yes, she _is_ a bright little thing," the medium assented. "She passed
out when she was only twelve; they say she's very pretty. Are there any
spirits with you, Starlight?"
Two more raps.
"Who's there--Wampum?"
Two raps were given with terrific force. Everybody laughed.
"Wampum's feeling pretty good, to-night," said Vixley.
"Anybody else?" Flora asked.
Yes, some one else.
"Who? Is it Mr. Torkins?"
Yes.
The voice of a little old dried-up lady on the front row was heard,
saying, "Oh, that's Willie! I'm _so_ glad he's come. Are you happy,
Willie?"
Yes, Willie was happy. Had he seen Nelly? Yes, he had seen Nelly, and
Nelly was also happy. And so, for a time, it went on, like an Ollendorf
lesson.
Starlight was then asked if she could not control the medium, orally.
She consented, and soon, in a chirping voice the medium twittered forth:
"Hello! Good evenin', folkses! Oh, I'se so glad to see you all, I is!
Hello, Mis' Brickett, you's got a new bonnet, isn't you? It's awfully
nice! Oh, I'se so happy. I got some candy, too. It's _spirit_ candy;
it's lots better'n yours." Here she laughed shrilly and the company
snickered.
Mabel could scarcely hold herself in check and had to be pinched.
Starlight resumed her artless prattle, with Vixley as interlocutor. The
two exchanged homely badinage and pretended to flirt desperately. But
she refused this time to sit upon his knee. Finally an old man asked if
Walter were there.
"Well, I just _guess_!" said Starlight. "He's my beau, he is! He giv'd
me this candy. Want some?" A chocolate drop flew into the middle of
the room.
"That's real materialized candy!" Vixley explained. "We're liable to
have a good seance, to-night!"
Starlight, after giving a few messages, announced that the spirits had
consented to materialize, and requested the company to sing. Flora went
into the cabinet, Madam Spoll turned the light still lower, and Vixley,
stating that the medium would now go into a dead trance, took the chair
in front of the cabinet. A doleful air was started by the believers on
the front seats:
"I have a father in the spirit land,
I have a father in the spirit land,
My father calls me, I must go
To meet him in the spirit land!"
then,
"I have a mother in the spirit land,"
and so on, through the whole family, brother, sister and friend.
The darkness was now thick and velvety. The sitters could not see what
they touched, and, gazing intently into the void, their eyes filled it
with shifting colors and spots of light conjured up by the reflex action
of the retina, as if their eyes were shut. As the song ended, there
came an awed silence to add to the stifling darkness as they waited for
the first manifestation from the cabinet.
Then the hush was broken by excited whispers, and a tall form, dimly
luminous, was seen in the opening of the curtains.
"Why, here's the Professor!" said Vixley, shattering the solemnity, and
making of this advent a friendly visitation. "Good evening, Professor,
we're glad to see you. It's good to have you here again!"
A deep, slow voice replied, articulating its words painfully, "Good
eve-ning, friends, I'm ver-y glad to be here to-night!" Every word was
chopped into distinct syllables. The figure moved forward a little. It
was a typical ghost, a vague, unearthly, draped figure, wavering,
indistinct. The face melted into amorphous shadows. It glided here and
there noiselessly.
The Professor was an affable celebrity, but somewhat verbose. He spoke
to several of the company by name, and interspersed his greetings with
jocular remarks to Little Starlight who was supposed to be flitting
invisibly about the room. "She's a lit-tul darlink, ev-ery-bod-y loves
lit-tul Star-light," he said, in answer to Vixley's comment.
He retreated silently to the cabinet, and the curtains closed upon him.
Some one asked if they couldn't see the "Egyptian Hand" and Starlight's
voice from the cabinet gave assent. Forthwith it appeared and made a
hurried circle of the front part of the room, shedding a ghostly,
phosphorescent glow, and, on its way, patting the heads of the faithful.
"Oh, I feel something so nice and soft!" cried Mrs. Brickett. "It's
perfectly 'eavenly--right on top of my head--what is it?"
"That's _hair_!" Starlight called out.
The Professor bellowed from the cabinet, "Oh, ho, ho, ho! You must-unt
mind lit-tul Star-light! She's so love-ly we don't mind her, do we?"
Vixley gave the cue for another song to cover the next entrance. This
time it was _My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean_, its special appositeness
seeming to lie in the line, "Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me!"
Another shorter form appeared and stood wavering in front of the
curtains, then, without a word, withdrew.
"That's Stella," said Vixley. "She's only come to get progression. She
ain't very strong yet, so she can't stay but a minute, but we're always
glad to see her and help her along all we can with our thought."
A woman, with a sob, rose to go forward.
"No, not to-night, Mrs. Seeley; the medium ain't strong enough!" said
Vixley.
How he recognized these spectral visitors nobody asked. They looked
just alike, except, perhaps, for height; all were wavering, white and
mysterious, without distinguishable faces. At the entrance of another,
like all the rest, Professor Vixley startled the company by saying,
suavely and patronizingly:
"This is Mr. McKinley, friends. It's good to see you, Mr. McKinley.
I'm glad you come. We're _always_ glad to see you. Come again, come
any time you feel like it." He explained, after the spirit vanished,
that Mr. McKinley had had great difficulty in finding any medium
sympathetic enough for him to control, and he wandered from circle to
circle, hoping to establish communication with the earth-plane.
The next visitor was no less than Queen Victoria. "That's good!" said
Vixley, "we're awful glad to see you, sure!" It now transpired that the
spirits whispered their names to him in entering. His conversation
became a bit dreary and monotonous and he failed to rise to his obvious
opportunities.
A few forms, after this, came farther from the cabinet, and their
friends were permitted to embrace them. These favored few sat on the
front seats. Whispered dialogues took place--innocuous talk of troubles
and happiness, perturbed commonplaces that, had they not been sometimes
accompanied with genuine tears, would have been nothing but ridiculous.
The spirits were all optimistic and willing to help. Their advice,
usually, consisted of the statement that "conditions would soon be more
favorable." At intervals the singers broke out into new songs, There's
a Land that is Fairer than Day--_Nearer, My God, to Thee!_--and so on.
The air became oppressively close. The audience began to whisper, cough
and shuffle. Mabel, desirous of excitement, had nudged Dougal again and
again, but he had muttered "Not yet!" at each hint.
The song _Over There_ had just ended, and the hush of expectancy had
fallen over the company when another form appeared and took a step
towards Vixley.
"She says her name is Felicia," he announced. "Does anybody recognize
her?"
"I do!" an unctuously mellow voice replied.
"She says she has a message for you," said Vixley, "but she don't want
to give it out loud before all these people. Will you come up here?"
Mr. Payson made his way with difficulty, in the dark, past those on his
row and came forward.
"You can touch her, if you want to; she's completely materialized. Very
strong indeed for one outside Flora's band. She ain't got much
vitality, though, and you mustn't tax her too much."
The old man reached forward and touched a cold hand.
"Is it you, Felicia?" he asked tremulously.
"Yes, dear!" was the answer, in a thick, hoarse whisper. "I'm glad to
see you here. You must come often. I've tried so hard to get you. I
want to help you."
"You have a message for me?"