“Why, Charlie! What do you mean?” questioned Molly with an anxious glance at Reuel.

“Anything interesting, Charlie?” called out a jolly girl across the room.

“Briggs is our ‘show’ man. Haven’t you heard, girls, what a celebrity is with you tonight? Briggs is a philosopher—mesmerism is his specialty. Say, old man, give the company a specimen of your infernal art, can’t you? He goes the whole hog, girls; can even raise the dead.”

“Let up, Charlie,” said Aubrey in a low tone. “It’s no joking matter.”

There were screams and exclamations from the girls. With reckless gaiety Adonis continued,

“What is to be the outcome of the great furore you have created, Briggs?”

“Nothing of moment, I hope,” smiled Reuel, good-naturedly. “I have been simply an instrument; I leave results to the good angels who direct events. What does Longfellow say about the arrow and the song?

‘Long, long: afterwards, in an oak

I found the arrow still unbroke;

And the song, from beginning to end,

I found in the heart of a friend.’9

May it be so with my feeble efforts.”

“But circumstances alter cases. In this case, the ‘arrow’ is a girl and a devilish handsome one, too; and the ‘air’ is the whole scientific world. Your philosophy and mysticism gave way before Beauty. Argument is a stubborn man’s castle, but the heart is still unconvinced.”

“‘I mixed those children up, and not a creature knew it,’” hummed Bert Smith.10 “Your ideas are mixed, Don’t stick to the ladies, you understand girls and horseflesh; philosophy isn’t in your line.”

“Oh, sure!” said Adonis unruffled by his friend’s words.

“Charlie Vance,” said Molly severely, “if we have any more swearing from you tonight, you leave the room until you learn to practice good manners. I’m surprised at your language!”

“Just the same, Briggs is a fraud. I shall keep my eye on him. It’s a case of beauty and the beast. Oh,” he continued in malicious glee, “wouldn’t you girls turn green with envy, every man jack of you, if you could see the beauty!”

Thereupon the girls fell to pelting him with holly wreaths and evergreen festoons, much to the enjoyment of Mr. Vance, who had entered unperceived in the general melee.

“What is it all about, Dr. Briggs?” asked Molly in a low voice.

“It is the case of a patient who was in a mesmeric sleep and I was fortunate enough to awaken her. She is a waif; and it will be months before she will be well and strong, poor girl.”

“Do you make a study of mesmerism, Doctor?” asked Mr. Vance from his armchair by the glowing fire.