“Why, it disappeared. Gradually you know—just seemed to float away into nothingness.”
“He gave you no message?”
“Not in words, no. They rarely do. But the appearance, the visibility is the usual way of manifestation. I’m glad it occurred. Oh, I’m awfully sorry Sanford is dead—I didn’t mean that but, since he had to go, I’m glad he bade me good-by, as he passed on.”
“Well, I’m glad, too, if it is any comfort to you. Are you sure Eunice had no such experience?”
“Oh, no—if she had she’d have told me. She hates all such ideas. I suppose if she had seen Sanford—as I did—she would have become a believer—but I’m sure she didn’t.”
“Poor Eunice. She is terribly broken up.”
“Yes, of course. They were so devoted. They had a tiff now and then, but that was because of Eunice’s quick temper. She flares up so easily,” Aunt Abby sighed. “San couldn’t manage her at times.”
“I know. Poor girl, I don’t blame her for those spasms of rage. She can’t help it, you know. And she’s improving every day.”
“That’s what Sanford said. He thought he helped her, and I dare say he did. But sometimes he had to speak pretty sharply to her. Just as one would to a naughty child.”
“That’s what she is, bless her heart! Just a naughty child. We must be very considerate of her now, Aunt Abby, mustn’t we?”