“You will know soon. Wait.”
Maynard followed, with an appeal to “have faith,” adding: “It will be clear soon.”
This went on, at intervals, until after two o’clock, when I had promised an interview to a woman who had not visited me before. Fully resolved to tell her that I could take no messages for her, I made one last attempt to obtain the truth before her arrival—this time with partial success.
“Maynard. It is a mistake ...”
At that moment, my guest arrived. I told her that I might be unable to get any satisfactory communications for her, but her daughter, who left this plane years ago, came at once, writing steadily and clearly, with the exception of one brief interruption. She told her mother of the seven purposes and their meaning, urging her, as had all the others, to put herself consciously in touch with constructive purpose, and to open her mind and spirit to those on the next plane who were eager to work with her.
When I was again alone, I returned to the pencil, which wrote quickly and strongly: “Maynard. It is a mistake about Farrow. The ...” Here again the opposing forces evidently gained control. “Farrow here, but not your Farrow.”
“Then why have you insisted that he was our Farrow?”
“He led us to think so.”
I said with some emphasis that I wanted a better explanation than that.
“Maynard. You are messenger for us only if you trust us.”