He bent over and adjusted his glasses.  “It’s handwriting at any rate, and that’s better than the rest of you did.  Here, Lute, your eyes are young.”

“Oh, what flourishes!” Lute exclaimed, as she looked at the paper.  “And look there, there are two different handwritings.”

She began to read:  “This is the first lecture.  Concentrate on this sentence:  ’I am a positive spirit and not negative to any condition.’  Then follow with concentration on positive love.  After that peace and harmony will vibrate through and around your body.  Your soul—­ The other writing breaks right in.  This is the way it goes:  Bullfrog 95, Dixie 16, Golden Anchor 65, Gold Mountain 13, Jim Butler 70, Jumbo 75, North Star 42, Rescue 7, Black Butte 75, Brown Hope 16, Iron Top 3.”

“Iron Top’s pretty low,” Mr. Barton murmured.

“Robert, you’ve been dabbling again!” Aunt Mildred cried accusingly.

“No, I’ve not,” he denied.  “I only read the quotations.  But how the devil—­I beg your pardon—­they got there on that piece of paper I’d like to know.”

“Your subconscious mind,” Chris suggested.  “You read the quotations in to-day’s paper.”

“No, I didn’t; but last week I glanced over the column.”

“A day or a year is all the same in the subconscious mind,” said Mrs. Grantly.  “The subconscious mind never forgets.  But I am not saying that this is due to the subconscious mind.  I refuse to state to what I think it is due.”

“But how about that other stuff?” Uncle Robert demanded.  “Sounds like what I’d think Christian Science ought to sound like.”

“Or theosophy,” Aunt Mildred volunteered.  “Some message to a neophyte.”

“Go on, read the rest,” her husband commanded.

“This puts you in touch with the mightier spirits,” Lute read.  “You shall become one with us, and your name shall be ‘Arya,’ and you shall—­Conqueror 20, Empire 12, Columbia Mountain 18, Midway 140—­and, and that is all.  Oh, no! here’s a last flourish, Arya, from Kandor—­that must surely be the Mahatma.”

“I’d like to have you explain that theosophy stuff on the basis of the subconscious mind, Chris,” Uncle Robert challenged.

Chris shrugged his shoulders.  “No explanation.  You must have got a message intended for some one else.”

“Lines were crossed, eh?” Uncle Robert chuckled.  “Multiplex spiritual wireless telegraphy, I’d call it.”

“It is nonsense,” Mrs. Grantly said.  “I never knew Planchette to behave so outrageously.  There are disturbing influences at work.  I felt them from the first.  Perhaps it is because you are all making too much fun of it.  You are too hilarious.”

“A certain befitting gravity should grace the occasion,” Chris agreed, placing his hand on Planchette.  “Let me try.  And not one of you must laugh or giggle, or even think ‘laugh’ or ‘giggle.’  And if you dare to snort, even once, Uncle Robert, there is no telling what occult vengeance may be wreaked upon you.”