By this time the paper was completely covered with interlacing lines and words, except a narrow margin along the right edge. Sliding over to this, he wrote, slowly, “Now are you convinced?”
We were amazed, breathless, and all somewhat moved by his determination to demonstrate his presence.
Circling again to the center, already so covered with lines that we had to watch the pencil-point to make out the message, he said: “Now get the pencil.”
“Did I show you then who is running this?” he demanded, when I had complied with his request. “Mother dearest, when you are inclined to backslide, remember that little exhibition, and ask yourself how you can doubt any manifestation of me that you perceive.”
Mrs. Gaylord said that it was peculiarly characteristic of Frederick to insist upon making his point, and in one way or another to succeed.
“Dad won’t need to see that,” Frederick stated, when Cass wished that his father might have witnessed this extraordinary performance, “but if he does, I’ll do it for him with trimmings.... He has not lost a son in any but the most superficial sense. Tell Sis I’ll do stunts for her, too, if she’ll come where Margaret is, and Babe can have her own show, too.”
Again Mrs. Gaylord gasped, for he had used his own intimate names for his sisters, neither of which I had ever heard before.
“Now were really getting down to business,” he remarked, presently. “I had to convince Margaret before she would loosen up.” Cass began to explain that it had not been necessary to convince me, but before he was fairly started the pencil ran on: “Yes, it was. She didn’t quite believe I was running this show. Now she’s nice and amenable.” Verily, all resistance had been taken out of me! Thereafter he had his own way with the pencil.
Cass began another question, but broke off, saying that it was not fair to keep Frederick answering impersonal inquiries when he wanted to talk to his mother.