hat the actual arrangements were in any way due to the
strongly expressed wishes of a discarnate spirit.

If this book should ever fall into their hands, and they should trace
the story in spite of the thick veil I have thrown over all the
circumstances, I can only trust that, in gratitude for the results, they
may become reconciled with the channel through which these were made
possible.

People may say: "What a terrible idea that a father or a husband should
trouble himself about such sordid details as money, houses, etc."

But this is an extremely foolish remark, although it may appear very
spiritual on the surface. It is surely the most natural thing in the
world that a near relation--if permitted--should endeavour to secure
comfort and happiness for a dearly loved wife or daughter; especially
when, as in the above case, he felt mainly responsible for a state of
affairs which might have turned out so disastrously, save for his loving
care and foresight, exercised as these were from the other side of the
veil.

At anyrate it disposes once for all of the weary old "_Cui Bono_"
argument, which is so futile, and yet so constantly and triumphantly
quoted by stupid people, who seem to took upon it as a patent
extinguisher for any psychic gifts or experiences.

It is mainly in order to meet this senseless observation that I have
included this story in my reminiscences.

Most of us are debarred from answering the "_Cui Bono_" bray, by the
fact that our most helpful experiences are generally of a too intimate
and often sacred nature to be given to a scoffing world.

But this instance has the advantage of dealing entirely with material
matters, and thus being on a level with the ordinary intelligence.

Nobody can say in this case _no good was done_. It only remains to be
deeply shocked by the undignified, "nay, almost blasphemous,"
intervention in mundane affairs of a spirit "who should certainly have
had some more worthy occupation."

It is another case of the old man and the donkey. If discarnate spirits
_don't_ trouble about the personal affairs of those on earth, the "_Cui
Bono_" argument is hurled at them. If they _do_, they are called
blasphemous and irreverent!

The mention of the Waverly family reminds me of an incident which took
place when I was staying in their house in the country, a year or two
earlier than the time of which I am writing. I have reserved it
purposely as a sequel to this last story, wh