"Maybe it ain't as far as New York, but it's somewhere around there, and I see books and printing presses. Do you have anything to do with printing?"
"Funny!" she persisted. "I get you by a printing-press looking at a book and then I see you at a table writing."
"I have done some writing, but it has never been printed."
"Well, it will be! My guide tells me that you have a great talent for literary writing, and it could be developed to a great success.
"Now," she added, "you let me hold your hands a while till I get the magnetism stronger. Just hold them firm--that's right. Lord, you needn't squeeze them _quite_ so hard!" She beamed upon him with obvious coquetry. "Now I'm going into a trance. I don't know whether Luella will come, or maybe little Eva. Eva's the cunningest little tot and as bright as a dollar. She's awful cute. You mustn't mind anything she says or does, though. Sometimes, I admit, she mortifies me, when sitters tell me what she's been up to. I've known her to sit on men's laps and kiss 'em and hug 'em, like she was their own daughter, but Lord, she don't know any better. She's innocent as a baby."
His face grew harder as she said this, but she proceeded, nevertheless, with her experiment, closing her eyes and sitting for a while in silence. Then her muscles twitched violently; she squirmed and wriggled her shoulders. Finally she spoke, in a high, squeaky falsetto, a fair ventriloquistic imitation of a child's voice.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Payson, I'm little Eva! I brought you some flowers, but you can't see 'em, 'cause they're spirit flowers. You don't look very well. Ain't you feelin' well to-day? I'm always well here, and it's lovely on this side."
He made no response. Madam Spoll's soft hand, obviously controlled by her spirit guide, moved up Mr. Payson's arm and patted his cheek. He drew back suddenly.
"My!" little Eva exclaimed. "You frightened me! What a funny man you are! Won't you just let me smoove your hair, once? I'd love to. Oh, I think you're horrid! I'm just doin' to slap your face--there!" Which she did quite briskly.
Mr. Payson loosened his hold with some annoyance.
"Well, I ain't doin' to stay if you don't love me," the shrill voice went on. "I don't _like_ men who don't love me. Good-by, old man, I'm doin'."