A sharp rapping began on the cone, a measured beat, which ended in a clang, which startled Kate into a shriek. "Who is doing that?" she asked, nervously.
"They are here," Clarke solemnly announced.
"Is that you, Waltie?" asked Mrs. Lambert, sweetly.
Three raps, loud and clear, answered "yes." A drumming on the cone followed, and Mrs. Lambert, her voice full of maternal pride, remarked: "Waltie is the life of our sittings—he's such a rogue! You must be a nice boy to-night—on account of these very distinguished men."
"Rap, rap!" went the cone.
"Does that mean 'all right'?"
"Rap, rap, rap!" Yes.
"Is grandfather there?"
"Yes."
"Does he wish to speak to the gentlemen?"