Mrs. Riley's face, haggard and terrified, was working convulsively. Without taking her eyes from the medium, she ran into the front room and shook the boy's shoulder.
"Wake her up, Frankie, I don't want no more of this! Wake her up, dear, and let me go!"
Francis arose lazily and walked over to Madam Grant. He put his arm tenderly about her and whispered in her ear.
"Come back, Mamsy dear! Come back, Mamsy, I want you!" He began stroking her hands firmly.
Mrs. Riley, still gazing, fascinated, at the group, backed out of the room and closed the door. Her steps were heard stumbling down the stairs. Madam Grant's eyes quivered and opened slowly. She shuddered, then shook the blood back into her thin, white hands. Finally she looked up at Francis and smiled. "All right, dear!"
Her smile, however, lasted but for the few moments during which he caressed her; then the veil fell upon her countenance, and her eyes grew strange and hard. She gazed wildly here and there about the room.
"What's that in Boston?" she asked suddenly, the pitch of her voice sharply raised, as she pointed to the shells upon the rubbish of the floor.
"Only some peanuts I was eating, Mamsy," said the boy, guiltily watching her.
"Somebody has been in Toledo, somebody has been in New York! I can see the smoke of the trains!" Her eyes traveled around an invisible path, from mound to mound of dirt and scraps, noticing the slight displacements the boy had made in his quest for food. He watched her sharply, but without fear.
"Oh, the train didn't stop, Mamsy; they were express trains, you know."