The girl regarded him steadily. "How should I?" she said. And
then, as though decided upon a course of action of the wisdom of
which she was uncertain, she laughed uneasily.

"But the spirits would know," she said. "I might ask them."

"Do!" cried Winthrop, delightedly. "How much would that be?"

As though to reprove his flippancy, the girl frowned. With a
nervous tremor, which this time seemed genuine enough, she threw
back her head, closed her eyes, and laid her arm across her
forehead.

Winthrop, unobserved, watched her with a smile, partly of
amusement, partly on account of her beauty, of admiration.

"I see -- a court room," said the girl. "It is very mean and
bare. It is somewhere up the State; in a small town. Outside,
there are trees, and the sun is shining, and people are walking
in a public park. Inside, in the prisoner's dock, there is a
girl. She has been arrested -- for theft. She has pleaded
guilty! And I see -- that she has been very ill -- that she is
faint from shame -- and fear -- and lack of food. And there is a
young lawyer. He is defending her; he is asking the judge to be
merciful, because this is her first offence, because she stole
the cloak to get money to take her where she had been promised
work. Because this is his first case."

Winthrop gave a gasp of disbelief.