Athalie

For she was a girl to flatter the vanity of men; and she knew that if

ever she coolly addressed her mind to it she could rule them, entangle

them, hold them sufficiently long, and flourish without the ultimate

concession, because there were so many, many men in the world, and it

took each man a long, long time to relinquish hope; and always there

was another ready to try his fortune, happy in his vanity to attempt

where all so far had failed.

Something she had to do; that was certain. And it happened, while

she was pondering the problem, that the only thing she had not

considered,--had not even thought of--was now abruptly presented to

her.

For, as she lay there thinking, there came the sound of footsteps

outside her door, and presently somebody knocked. And Athalie rose in

the dusk of the room, switched on a single light, went to the door and

opened it. And opportunity walked in wearing the shape of an elderly

gentleman of substance, clothed as befitted a respectable dweller in

any American city except New York.

"Good evening," he said, looking at her pleasantly but inquiringly.

"Is Mrs. Del Garmo in?"

"Mrs. Del Garmo?" repeated Athalie, surprised. "Why, Mrs. Del Garmo is

dead!"

"God bless us!" he exclaimed in a shocked voice. "Is that so? Well,

I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. Well--well--well! Mrs. Del Garmo! I

certainly am sorry."

He looked curiously about him, shaking his head, and an absent

expression came into his white-bearded face--which changed to lively

interest when his eyes fell on the table where the crystal stood

mounted between the prongs of the bronze tripod.

"No doubt," he said, looking at Athalie, "you are Mrs. Del Garmo's

successor in the occult profession. I notice a crystal on the table."

And in that instant the inspiration came to the girl, and she took it

with the coolness and ruthlessness of last resort.

"What is it you wish?" she asked calmly, "a reading?"

He hesitated, looking at her out of aged but very honest eyes; and in

a moment she was at his mercy, and the game had gone against her. She

said, while the hot colour slowly stained her face: "I have never read

a crystal. I had not thought of succeeding Mrs. Del Garmo until

now--this moment."

"What is your name, child?" he asked in a gently curious voice.

"Athalie Greensleeve."

"You are not a trance-medium?"

"No. I am a stenographer."