you to take particular notice of
this table, which is, as you see, a plain, unpainted pine table, with
nothing but a flat top, and four straight legs at the corners. You can
see under and around it, and it gives no opportunity to conceal
anything." Then, standing for a few moments as if he had something else
to say, he turned and stepped toward one of the wings.

Edith was troubled as she looked at her lover during these remarks.
Her interest was great, greater, indeed, than that of the people about
her, but it was not a pleasant interest. As Loring stopped speaking,
and looked about him, there was a momentary flush on his face. She
knew this was caused by excitement, and she was pale from the same
cause.

Very soon Loring came forward, and stood by the table.

"Here is the box," he said, "of which I spoke, and as I hold it up I
think you all can see it. It is not large, being certainly not more
than twelve inches in length and two deep, but it contains some very
wonderful things. The outside of this box is covered with delicate
engraving and carving which you cannot see, and these marks and lines
have, I think, some magical meaning, but I do not know what it is. I
will now open the box and show you what is inside. The first thing I
take out is this little stick, not thicker than a lead-pencil, but
somewhat longer, as you see. This is a magical wand, and is covered
with inscriptions of the same character as those on the outside of the
box. The next thing is this little red bag, well filled, as you see,
which I shall put on the table, for I shall not yet need it.

"Now I take out a piece of cloth which is folded into a very small
compass, but as I unfold it you will perceive that it is more than a
foot square, and is covered with embroidery. All those strange lines
and figures in gold and red, which you can plainly see on the cloth as
I hold it up, are also characters in the same magic language as those
on the box and wand. I will now spread the cloth on the table, and
then take out the only remaining thing in the box, and this is nothing
in the world but an egg--a simple, ordinary hen's egg, as you all see
as I hold it up. It may be a trifle larger than an ordinary egg, but
then, after all, it is nothing but a common egg--that is, in
appearance. In reality it is a good deal more.

"Now I will begin the performance." And as he stood by the back of the
table, over which he had been slightly bending, and