Ferdinand brought in the tea things, and Eunice, with her graceful hospitality, saw to it that her guest was in no way embarrassed or bothered by unaccustomed service.
“I’ve had a right good time,” he said in his boyish way, as he rose to go. “Thank you, ma’am, for the tea and things. I liked it all.”
His comprehensive glance that swept the room and its occupants was a sincere compliment and after he had gone there was only kindly comment on his personality.
Except from Aunt Abby.
“He’s an ignorant boor,” she announced.
“Now, now,” objected Eunice, “you only say that because he upset your favorite delusions. He punctured your bubbles and pulled down your air-castles. Give it up, Aunt Abby, there’s nothing in your ‘Voice of Isis’ racket!”
“Permit me to be the judge of my own five senses, Eunice, if you please.”
“That’s just it, Miss Ames,” spoke up Hendricks. “Is your psychic information, or whatever it is, discernible to your five senses, or any of them?”
“Of course, or how could I realize the presence of the psychic forces?”
“I don’t know just what those things are, but I supposed they were available only to a sort of sixth sense—or seventh! Why, I have five senses, but I don’t lay claim to any more than that.”