not think they were quite satisfied. From what I heard some
persons say, I inferred that they thought it was not very much of
a show to which you had invited them."

Again Loring stood in thought, looking down at the table.
But before he could speak again, Edith sprang to her feet.

"Herbert Loring," she cried, "what does all this mean? I was
there during the whole of the exhibition of what you called the
magic egg. I saw all those people wild with excitement at
the wonderful sight of the chicken that came out of the egg, and
grew to full size, and then dwindled down again, and went back
into the egg, and, Herbert, there was no egg, and there was no
little box, and there was no wand, and no embroidered cloth, and
there was no red bag, nor any little chick, and there was no
full-grown fowl, and there was no chair that you put on the
table! There was nothing, absolutely nothing, but you and that
table! Even the table was not what you said it was. It was not
an unpainted pine table with four straight legs. It was a table
of dark polished wood, and it stood on a single post with feet.
There was nothing there that you said was there. Everything was
a sham and a delusion; every word you spoke was untrue. And yet
everybody in that theatre, excepting you and me, saw all the
things that you said were on the stage. I know they saw them
all, for I was with the people, and heard them, and saw them, and
at times I fairly felt the thrill of enthusiasm which possessed
them as they glared at the miracles and wonders you said were
happening."

Loring smiled. "Sit down, my dear Edith," he said. "You are