whatever he may be doing, he will enter
the cataleptic state. The test is regarded as a severe and perfect
one. The card will remain in the possession of Major Pumphrey until it
succeeds or fails, and the envelope will then be opened."

Kneeling on the dais, she seemed whispering in the subject's ear.
Then, tapping his wrist, she said, decisively, "Wake!"

It was Eugene Brassfield who opened his eyes on a circle of his
friends, associates and cronies. He rose lightly and confidently, and
laughed at the chaffing of his friends. He bowed to Madame le Claire,
and moved across the room to Elizabeth's side, with an air of incipient
proprietorship.

"No true lover of carnations," he confided to her, "could wish you to
wear them as you do to-night."

"Really? I suppose I ought to ask why?"

"It isn't fair to the flowers," said he. "Flowers have rights, you
know, and to be outdone in sweetness---- Ah, Jim! Go away, and don't
bother me! Don't you see I'm very busy?"

"Old man," said Alvord, answering to the name of "Jim," "it's good to
see you as you are to-night--your old self. You'll make a hit, my boy.
This will make it more than ever a cinch!"

Self-possessed, masterful, Mr. Brassfield moved through the assembly
like a conqueror. Those who, a short time ago, found him dull and
moody, rejoiced now in his confident persiflage pitched safely in the
restful key of mediocrity, but possessed withal of a species of
brilliancy, like the skilful playing of scales. Elizabeth noted the
return of that dash and abandon which she had lately so missed--but for
the first time the Brassfield music had a hollow ring in her ears. The
subtler melody of last night--after all, it was best!

Madame le Claire, immensely popular, gave readings in palmistry. Miss
Smith was to have a husband with dark eyes. Mr. Brassfield offered to
cross her palm with any gold coin she might name, if she would promise
him a sweetheart with party-colored eyes, who would meet him for a long
talk next day. Madame le Claire blushed and dropped the hand.

Mr. Brassfield adroitly overtook Miss Scarlett, who seemed endeavoring
to retreat. He stood by her, chatting lightly, using two voices, a
distinct and conversational tone, and one so low as to be for her ear
alone.

"Oh, isn't it a crush?" said he. "(_Daise, what's the matter?_) A
perfect evening, though. (_Are you running away from me?_) And such
delightful people! (_The east room in te