I asked why. “Intellectual interest.”
H. said, “You mean that you are glad to have intelligent people interested?” “Yes.”
When we were talking about H.’s interest, it wrote, “Tell others.” This was repeated several times. “I am a missionary,” came as clearly as I have written it here. We asked if she meant a missionary from that life to this. “Yes.” At the end she again urged H. to tell others. I laughed, saying, “Tell as many others as you like about the experience, but don’t tell too many that it came through me.” “Sorry.”
“Sorry that I am unwilling to be overwhelmed by a flood of curiosity and hysteria?” “Sorrow.” I said I would be glad to help people in sorrow. “Sorrowful people suffer.” Isn’t that like Mary Kendal?
When H. was leaving, it wrote: “Good night. Tell others.”
After she had gone I went back, and got another movement entirely. “Frederick?” “Yes.” He seems to have more difficulty in writing than she does. Is very clear at first, but becomes illegible sooner.
“Do you know that your mother is coming?” “Yes.... Wish to make her at peace.” I said I wished to make her at peace, too, and would do all I could, and he wrote, “Thank you.”
As has been said, Cass had been ill, and his improvement after going to Atlantic City had not been as rapid as we had hoped it might be. A letter received from him on Tuesday reported a slight relapse, and promised a telegram on Wednesday. It had been arranged that I should join him if he needed me.