As Mrs. Crane said, "When Peter was a child the gypsies said he would go away and be lost, but he would return to us. He has done so, he is doing so--why should we grieve? He tells us he is happy and contented in his new sphere of existence, therefore, we are, too."

"That's all very well," Carlotta Harper would respond, "but I don't look at it that way at all. I want my Peter Boots back again in the flesh.

I'm not contented at all with a lot of spirit talk communicated through a paid medium!"

"Don't say paid medium, as if the paying detracted from her worth,"

Benjamin Crane chid the girl. "Of course, we pay Madame Parlato for her time--why should we not? It's the best money I ever spent! And you're a medium yourself, Carlotta. You hate to acknowledge it, but you are. Your work with the Ouija Board is perfectly marvelous, and I have proved to my own satisfaction that you never use the least fraud."

"Indeed, I don't," said Carlotta, earnestly, "but what's the use? What do I care to have Peter talk on that wooden board--if it _is_ Peter--I want him, himself!"

Carlotta was pa.s.sing through strange moods. Living alone with her mother, their home seemed far more a house of mourning than the Cranes'.

The girl grieved deeply for Peter. Though not definitely engaged, she knew their betrothal would have been sealed on his return. And not having the comfort that the Cranes so gladly accepted, she sorrowed for her lost love.

Her success with the Ouija Board was a matter of mystery to her mother and to all who knew of it. It seemed that she must be a medium, or possess some occult power, for whenever she placed her finger-tips on the little board it immediately began to move, and told such remarkable things that there was occasion for surprise. Nor did Carlotta move the board of her own volition. It was easily seen that she did not "push" or urge it in any direction. The most careful scrutiny could not only discern no effort of hers, but could not fail to be convinced that she made none. Her friends came often to beg her to give them a session.

Her fame spread until it began to annoy her.

Gilbert Blair talked to her about it.

"You know, Carly," he said, "it's not really a message from a spirit you get, it's----"

"It's what, Gilbert?" she asked, smiling. "Don't you tell me it's fraud on my part, because it isn't."

"No, I don't think it's conscious fraud, but----"

"But you don't know what it is, do you?" the girl smiled at him, and Blair, looking deep in her eyes, said: "No, I don't know what it is, and I don't care. But I care about you. Carly, dear, can't you learn to love me? I'm not as good a chap as Peter--dear old Peter. But I love you--oh, girl, how I love you!"

"The Ouija Board said that Peter wanted me to turn my affections toward Kit Shelby."

"It didn't! did it? Then that proves that it was no real message from Peter! He would rather you'd turn toward me."

"How do you know?"

"Oh, we used to talk about you up in the snows of Labrador. And Peter loved you lots, but he knew I did, too, and we agreed that the best man should win. I don't mean the best man, but the one who stood best in your heart. And now--oh, Carly, if you only would----"

"Not yet, Gilbert--don't let's talk about it yet."

"But Peter's been dead nearly six months, and you weren't actually engaged, you know----"

"How do you know that?"

"Peter told me, oh, we were confidential up there. And, now, Peter's gone, and try, won't you, Carly, try to love me. Shelby isn't in my way, is he?"

"I don't know--he wants to be."

"Of course he does! But I won't give up to him! Peter was different. He was a wonder, that chap!"

"Indeed, he was. And I care too much for his memory to think about any one else--yet."

"But some day, Carly--dear, some day?"

"Some day we'll see about it. Gilbert, what do you think of that medium the Cranes go to all the time?"

"Absolute rubbish."

"I think that, too. But she's doing queer stunts. She's begun materializing things."

"What sort of things?"

"I don't know exactly. Flowers, I believe, and hands and faces."

"You know all the legerdemain people do that."

"That's no argument, Gilbert, and you know it. The charlatans can do all the things that the real mediums do. The question is not whether the fakers can do them, but whether the real mediums can."

"Meaning whether the real mediums are real or not?"

"Yes, that's what I mean. If ever there was a real one. I think Madame Parlato is one. But I'm not sure. She does the Cranes a lot of good.

They believe----"

"Not Julie."

"Oh, no, Julie hates the whole business. I think she'd be convinced, though, except for Mr. Thorpe. He's such a skeptic that he influences Julie."

"I _thought_ Thorpe was rather interested in that direction."

"Well, rather! Why, they've been exclusively interested in each other all winter."

"Thorpe's a close-mouthed chap. We live together, but we seldom exchange confidences. I like him pretty well, but----"

"But what?"

"I oughtn't to say it, but I don't altogether trust him. We're working for a prize, you know, the Callender medal, and sometimes I've imagined that he----"

"I know, he steals your ideas."

"Well, I wouldn't put it so bluntly, but he is an unconscious kleptomaniac, I think. He watches my drawing--I go astray sometimes to mislead him--and next thing I know he incorporates the same motive in his own sketches. I wouldn't say this to any one else, but I'm a little worried about it. Not so much about his taking my stuff as the fear that some one will think I've taken his."

"How's your work progressing?"

"Well--if Thorpe lets me alone."

"Can't you lock yourself in?"

"Oh, no; we use the same studio, and if I seemed fearful he would be angry at once. He's a strange nature, Thorpe. Morbid and secretive, yet a good friend and a first-rate living companion. You see, we've separate bedrooms, of course, but we've only the one big room that's studio and sitting-room combined. We have to use it together, but as our friends are pretty much the same bunch, we get along all right. We have lockers and all that, but I hate to lock up my sketches when I go out. It looks as if I didn't trust him."

"Well, you don't."

"No; but I can't tell him so. Nor do I want to hint it--at least not until I find some definite proof. Get out your Ouija Board, Carly, and see if it will tell us anything."