And then the unexpected happened: The aged stranger, instead of voraciously devouring the proffered meal, with a kindly glance upon his host, raised his withered hands aloft as though to pronounce a benediction upon him, and in a chanting tone droned forth the lines:
"Who eats this egg and toast delicious
Receives the gift of three full wishes—
Thus do the fairy folk reward
The sacrifices of this board."
A low, rumbling peal of thunder and a blinding flash as of the lightning followed, and when the brilliant illumination of the latter had died away the stranger had vanished.
Wilbraham looked at his wife, dumb with amazement, and she, tottering backward into her chair, gazed back, her eyes distended with fear.
"Have I—have I been dreaming?" he gasped, recovering his speech in a moment. "Or have we really had a visitor?"
"I was going to ask you the same question, Richard," she replied. "It really was so very extraordinary, I can hardly believe—"
And then their eyes fell upon the steaming egg, still lying like a beautiful sunset on a background of toast upon the table.
"The egg!" she cried, hoarsely. "It must have been true."
"Will you eat it?" asked Wilbraham, politely extending the platter in her direction.
"Never!" she cried, shuddering. "I should not dare. It is too uncanny."