Shall we go on? It is not agitating you too much, Laura?'

A girl answers, 'There was a moment when I--but I wish I was braver. I think it is partly the darkness. I suppose we can't have a little light?'

'Certainly we can, dear. Darkness is quite unnecessary, but I think it helps one to concentrate.'

The Major lights a lamp, and though it casts shadows we see now that the room is an artist's studio. The silent figure in the ingle-nook is the artist. Mrs. Don is his wife, the two men are Major Armitage and an older friend, Mr. Rogers. The girl is Laura Bell. These four are sitting round the table, their hands touching: they are endeavouring to commune with one who has 'crossed the gulf.'

The Major and Mr. Rogers are but pa.s.sing shadows in the play, and even nice Laura is only to flit across its few pages for a moment on her way to happier things. We scarcely notice them in the presence of Mrs. Don, the gracious, the beautiful, the sympathetic, whose magnetic force and charm are such that we wish to sit at her feet at once. She is intellectual, but with a disarming smile, religious, but so charitable, masterful, and yet loved of all. None is perfect, and there must be a flaw in her somewhere, but to find it would necessitate such a rummage among her many adornments as there is now no time for. Perhaps we may come upon it accidentally in the course of the play.

She is younger than Mr. Don, who, despite her efforts for many years to cover his deficiencies, is a man of no great account in a household where the bigger personality of his wife swallows him like an Aaron's rod. Mr. Don's deficiencies! She used to try very hard, or fairly hard, to conceal them from d.i.c.k; but d.i.c.k knew. His mother was his chum. All the lovely things which happened in that house in the days when d.i.c.k was alive were between him and her; those two shut the door softly on old Don, always anxious not to hurt his feelings, and then ran into each other's arms.

In the better light Mr. Don is now able to read his paper if he chooses.

If he has forgotten the party at the table, they have equally forgotten him.

MRS. DON. 'You have not gone away, have you? We must be patient. Are you still there?'

ROGERS. 'I think I felt a movement.'

MRS. DON. 'Don't talk, please. Are you still there?'

The table moves.

'Yes! It is your mother who is speaking; do you understand that?'

The table moves.

'Yes. What shall I ask him now?'

ROGERS. 'We leave it to you, Mrs. Don.'

MRS. DON. 'Have you any message you want to send us? Yes. Is it important? Yes. Are we to spell it out in the usual way? Yes. Is the first letter of the first word A? Is it B?'

She continues through the alphabet to L, when the table responds.

Similarly she finds that the second letter is O.

'Is the word _Love_? Yes. But I don't understand that movement. You are not displeased with us, are you? No. Does the second word begin with A?--with B? Yes.'

The second word is spelt out _Bade_ and the third _Me_.

'Love Bade Me----If it is a quotation, I believe I know it! Is the fourth word _Welcome_? Yes.'

LAURA. 'Love Bade Me Welcome.'

MRS. DON. 'That movement again! Don't you want me to go on?'

LAURA. 'Let us stop.'

MRS. DON. 'Not unless he wishes it. Why are those words so important?

Does the message end there? Is any one working against you? Some one antagonistic? Yes. Not one of ourselves surely? No. Is it any one we know? Yes. Can I get the name in the usual way? Yes. Is the first letter of this person's name A?--B?----'

It proves to be F. One begins to notice a quaint peculiarity of Mrs.

Don's. She is so accustomed to homage that she expects a prompt response even from the shades.

'Is the second letter A?'

The table moves.

'FA. Fa----?'

She is suddenly enlightened.

'Is the word Father? Yes.'

They all turn and look for the first time at Mr. Don. He has heard, and rises apologetically.

MR. DON, distressed, 'I had no intention--Should I go away, Grace?'

She answers sweetly without a trace of the annoyance she must surely feel.

MRS. DON. 'Perhaps you had better, Robert.'

ROGERS. 'I suppose it is because he is an unbeliever? He is not openly antagonistic, is he?'

MRS. DON, sadly enough, 'I am afraid he is.' They tend to discuss the criminal as if he was not present.

MAJOR. 'But he must admit that we do get messages.'

MRS. DON, reluctantly, 'He says we think we do. He says they would not want to communicate with us if they had such trivial things to say.'

ROGERS. 'But we are only on the threshold, Don. This is just a beginning.'

LAURA. 'Didn't you hear, Mr. Don--"Love Bade Me Welcome"?'

MR. DON. 'Does that strike you as important, Laura?'

LAURA. 'He said it was.'

MRS. DON. 'It might be very important to him, though we don't understand why.'

She speaks gently, but there is an obstinacy in him, despite his meekness.

MR. DON. 'I didn't mean to be antagonistic, Grace. I thought. I wasn't thinking of it at all.'

MRS. DON. 'Not thinking of d.i.c.k, Robert? And it was only five months ago!'

MR. DON, who is somehow, without meaning it, always in the wrong, 'I'll go.'

ROGERS. 'A boy wouldn't turn his father out. Ask him.'