The effect upon the group in the parlor, leaning forward
in awed expectation to catch the message from beyond, was upsetting,
literally and figuratively. Miss Tamson Black, perched upon the slippery
cushion of a rickety and unstable music stool, slid to the floor with
a most unspiritual thump and a shrill squeal. Primmie clutched her
next-door neighbor--it chanced to be Mr. Augustus Cabot--by the middle
of the waistcoat, and hers was no light clutch. Mr. Abel Harding shouted
several words at the top of his lungs; afterward there was some dispute
as to just what the exact words were, but none whatever as to their lack
of propriety. Almost every one jumped or screamed or exclaimed. Only
Captain Jeth Hallett, who had heard that horn many, many times, was
quite unmoved. Even his daughter was startled.

But perhaps the most surprising effect of the mammoth "toot" was that
which it produced in the spirit world. It seemed to blow Little Cherry
Blossom completely back to her own sphere, for it was a voice neither
Chinese nor ethereal which, coming from Miss Hoag's lips, shrieked
wildly: "Oh, my good land of love! Wh--what's that?"

It was only after considerable pounding of the table and repeated orders
for silence that Captain Jethro succeeded in obtaining it. Then he
explained concerning the foghorn.

"It'll blow every minute from now on, I presume likely," he growled,
"but I don't see as that need to make any difference about our goin' on
with this meetin'. That is, unless Marietta minds. Think 'twill bother
you about gettin' back into the trance state, Marietta?"

Erastus Beebe had turned up one of the lamps and it happened to be the
one just above Miss Hoag's head. By its light Martha Phipps could see
the medium's face, and it seemed to her--although, as she admitted
afterward, perhaps because of subsequent happenings she only imagined
that it seemed so--it seemed to her that Marietta was torn between an
intense desire to give up mediumizing for that evening and a feeling
that she must go on.

"She looked to me," said Martha, "as if she was afraid to go on, but
more afraid to stop."

However, go on she did. She told the light keeper that she guessed she
could get back if Tamson would play a little spell more. Miss Black
agreed to do so, provided she might have a chair instead of a music
stool.

"I wouldn't risk settin' on that plaguy, slippery haircloth thing again
for no mortal soul," declared the irate Tamson, m