expression of those that see inward--Jennie stared at her,
hypnotized, breathless.

"I saw a room," chanted the inspired one, "a room in a large
city. I can see it now. It is a bedroom. There are blue rugs on
the floor, and the furniture is oak. It has two windows. There is
a canary bird in one, and the other has a seat with blue
cushions."

"Why, that is my mother's room, Dorothea! You know it is."

"In the bed a woman is lying. She is sick. She is turning from
one side to the other--she says, `Oh, where is my daughter? I
want my daughter! Why doesn't she come back to me?'"

"Oh, Dorothea!" Jennie, tearful and excited, began to draw on her
clothes. "That was my mother! It must have been! Oh, Dorothea!"

The sybil drove in the fine point again. "`Why doesn't she come
back to me?'" she reiterated.

The program that had proceeded so smoothly now received an
unexpected hitch. Jennie paused suddenly in her garmenting,
relief growing in her face.

"After all," she observed, "I don't believe mother had anything
more than one of her sick-headaches. She has them all the time. I
wouldn't go home just for that. I do believe that is it,
Dorothea."