What did they mean was flying around the room? It was most aggravating. Was it supposed to be the horn that was flying around the room?
“It’s stopped in front of you, judge,” whispered the sailor.
I felt the judge’s hand tighten on mine. “Is that you, Ebenezer?” he asked, quaveringly.
And the voice, a throaty disguise of the voice of the medium, answered: “This is Ebenezer. What can I do for you? How de do, how de do, folks!” It seemed to come from all over the room at once, now above my head, now across from me. “How de do, how de do to-day!”
“Fine,” some one answered.
“Ebenezer, how about that money you promised me?” the sailor began, trying to force his personality upon the control. But Ebenezer would have none of him. “This is Mattie, this is Mattie,” it was whispering.
What? I had not been listening accurately. It had never crossed my mind that this farce could be directed toward me.
“Ask it something,” urged the judge in a fierce whisper.
“You ask,” I whispered back.
“Aw, who is Mattie?” the disappointed sailor growled under his breath.