She passed her hand across her eyes, sighed, and fingered her chin nervously. She poked the articles on the table again.
"As I come on to this platform, I see an old man over there, in that direction, what you might call a middle-aged man, perhaps, of a medium height, and whiskers, like. I feel a condition of going on a journey, you might say, somewhere east of here, though maybe not very far, and I get the name John. The light goes over in your direction, lady, that one with the red hat. Yes, you. Would that be your father, possibly?"
The lady, straightening herself upon being thus addressed, said timidly, "I think perhaps you mean my uncle. His name was John."
"Maybe it is an uncle, though I get the influence of a father very strong, too. Has your father passed out?"
The lady in the red hat nodded.
"Then it is your father, do you see? Yes, I get an uncle, too, who wishes to communicate, only his influence ain't strong enough. That shows it ain't mind reading, as the newspaper folks say, don't it?" She smiled, as if she had made a point, and the audience appeared to be impressed.
"About this journey, now: maybe you ain't had no idea of traveling, but John says you will. I don't think it's liable to be very far, though. It'll be before the last of September or the first of October and John says it'll be successful. Do you understand what I mean?"
The lady, frightened at the terrible import of this question, did not speak.
"Did you send up an article?"
"It's that purse with the chain."