to make her mind a suitable receiving station for ouija messages,
Lizzie began to mumble the sorrows of her heart.

"I've stood by you through thick and thin," she mourned in a low
voice. "I stood by you when you were a vegetarian--I stood by you
when you were a theosophist--and I seen you through socialism,
Fletcherism and rheumatism--but when it comes to carrying on with
ghosts--"

"Be still!" ordered Miss Cornelia. "Nothing will come if you keep
chattering!"

"That's why I'm chattering!" said Lizzie, driven to the wall. "My
teeth are, too," she added. "I can hardly keep my upper set in,"
and a desolate clicking of artificial molars attested the truth of
the remark. Then, to Miss Cornelia's relief, she was silent for
nearly two minutes, only to start so violently at the end of the
time that she nearly upset the ouija-board on her mistress's toes.

"I've got a queer feeling in my fingers--all the way up my arms,"
she whispered in awed accents, wriggling the arms she spoke of
violently.

"Hush!" said Miss Cornelia indignantly. Lizzie always exaggerated,
of course--yet now her own fingers felt prickly, uncanny. There
was a little pause while both sat tense, staring at the board.

"Now, Ouija," said Miss Cornelia defiantly, "is Lizzie Allen right
about this house or is it all stuff and nonsense?"