could see that she was annoyed with me, but she controlled herself and
placed some token in the being's hand which acted on his agitation like
a charm.

As I told you, Bloomer had given me with the other things, a crown of
artificial roses which, now that I had real flowers to wear, I wanted to
throw away, but this she would not permit, insisting that such a
proceeding would make the humans laugh at me--though to look into their
serious faces one would not believe this possible. The thoughts of those
about me, as I divined them, seemed anything but jocular. They came to
me incoherent and inconsecutive, a jumble of conditional premises
leading to approximate conclusions expressed in symbols having no
intrinsic meaning.--Of course, it is unfair to judge too soon, but I
have already begun to doubt the existence of direct perception among
them.--What did you say, dear?--Bother direct perception?--Well, I
wonder how _we_ should like to apprehend nothing that could not be put
into words? You, I'm sure, would have the most confused ideas about
Earthly conditions if you depended entirely upon my remarks.--Now
concentrate, and you shall hear something really interesting.

--No, not the One yet.--He comes later.--

We had not gone far, I carrying my roses, and Bloomer not too well
pleased, as I fancied, because so many people turned to look at us
(Bloomer has retrograded physically until she is at times almost
Uranian, probably as the result of wearing black, which appears to be
the chromatic equivalent of respectability), when suddenly I became
sensible of a familiar influence, which was quite startling because so
unexpected. Looking everywhere, I caught sight of--who do you suppose?
Our old friend Tuk.--Mr. Tuck, T-u-c-k here, if you please. He was about