Page 8 - 1917 November - To Dragma

12 TO DRAG MA OF ALPHA OMICRON PI TO PRAGMA OF ALPHA OMICRON PI 13

can see he think about you. You came to see me 'cause you worried along that line. You are not quite certain about it yet, but you are
young . . • you must put yourself into this work. The spirits will
about him, is it not so?"
aid you."
"Yes," I sighed, studying the hem on the striped gingham apron. I felt suddenly dispensed with.

"Don't you worry. Though only a few come back, he come. This The "reading" was over. "One dollar, please," said the high

I know. He will come back." arbiter.
I had my fortune told again and again during the summer, but to
After this consoling remark, my dispenser of long distance infor-
the seeress of Hawthorne Street all other practitioners of that mystic
mation from a hypothetical soldier, subsided into a momentary art were as neophytes and crude dissemblers. Even the lady who
purported to "follow the Veil" was but a shabby creature, with sad
reverie. eyes, who wore cheap jewelry and seemed to be in constant fear of
being discovered. I missed the homely aggressiveness of my oracle
"You got some question you like to ask me?" she asked searching of Hawthorne Street in other lack-luster seances. When the time
came to write my "Story" I approached the task with something very
for an additional lead. near regret.

I'm afraid I was a poor subject. The seeress looked slightly bored. MURIEL FAIRBANKS, T '18.

I racked my brain for desired information. I could think of nothing

which I really "yearned" to know concerning my past, present, or

future. Still, i f I were to have anything for my "story—"

"Please tell me about my father's relatives," I suggested meekly,

at which my oracle in the gingham gown promptly went off into a

trance. She remained in this state for several moments, so long that

I began to feel anxious for her safety. At length she began speaking

in low, muffled tones.

" I hear a voice . . . it is very faint . . . I hear names

spoken . . . I hear the names of John and Mary." Suddenly

the grey eyes opened wide enough to favor me with a swift glance,

"Was there ever a John or a Mary in your father's family?"

I recalled relatives who answered to those unique names. My

oracle seemed to register mild joy in her own astuteness. She was off

again.

" I hear a voice again . . i t grows more and more clear . . .

it is coming nearer and nearer . . . I almost have i t ! I t is, it Do you in your house or dormitory discuss
current topics at the table or do you gossip?
is . . . ah! . . . it is the voice of your father's mother! Listen This is a time when we should be ashamed of
trivial and cheap conversation!
closely to what I shall say . . . for she is about to speak . . .she is

saying, ' I believe in the right.' Your grandmother was a righteous

woman, was she not?"

There was no alternative. Again I verified the hypotheei^.

"What do you intend to do with your life?" the seeress asked

abruptly, having recovered with remarkable ease from her sojourn

in spirit land.

Again I hesitated. To reveal my connection with a newspaper

would never do.

" I ' d like to be a foreign missionary—and travel," I said a little

vaguely.

I was surveyed long and intently.

"A-ah," murmured the oracle of Hawthorne Street, meditatively,

" I see. I know, it is given to me-to know that you have great ability