The Connecticut labor press., 1919-12-20

1 have been thinking so constantly of his mother and it seemed to me that I have never seen her more distinctly. How lovely she was-and how she loved him !"
 If Lucy had not written this letter Eugene might not have done the odd thing he did that day. He was an ad- venturer; if he had lived in the six teenth century he would have sailed the unknown new seas, but having been born in the latter part of the nineteenth, when geography was a fairly well-settled matter, he had be- come an explorer in mechanics. But the fact that he was a "hard-headed business man" as we'll as an adven- turer did not keep him from having queer spot in his brain, because hard headed business men are as suscep- tible to such spots as adventurers are.
 Two weeks after IsabePs death, Flu gene was in New York on urgent busi- ness and found that the delayed ar rival of a steamer gave him a day with nothing to do. His room at the hotel had become intolerable; outdoors was tntolerable; everything was intolera- ble. It seemed to him that he must see Isabel once more, hear her voice once more; that he must find some way to her, or lose his mind. Under this pressure he had gone, with com plete scepticism, to a "trance-medium" of whom he had heard wild accounts from the wife of a business acquaint- ance.
 hn ho1 and he came away with an encourag- ing message from his father, who had failed to identify himself satisfactor- fly, but declared that everything was Ion a higher plane" in his present state of being, and that all life was "continuous and progressive" Mrs. Horner spoke of herself as psychic ;" but otherwise she seemed oddly unpretentious and matter-of- fact; and Eugene had no doubt at all of her sincerity. He went to Mrs. HOrner's after his directors meeting today. He used the telephone booth in the directors room to make the ap- pOintment; and he laughed feebly at himself, and wondered what the group of men in that mahogany apartment
 
 doing. Mrs. Horner had changed her address, but he found the new one, and somebody purpOrttng to be a niece of hers talked to him and made an ap- pOintment for "sitting" at five o'clock.
 Mrs. HOrner appeared in the door way, wan and unenterprising look ing woman in brown, with thin hair artifcially waved-but not recently and parted in the middle over a bIuish forehead. Her eyes were small and seemed weak, but she recognized the visitor.
 "Oh, you been here before," she said, in thin voice, not unmusical. q rec ollect you. Quite a time ago, want it?"
 ''Yes, quite a long time"
 'T recOIlect because I recOllect you was disappointed Anyway, you was kind of cross" She laughed faintly.
 I'm sorry if I seemed so," Eugene said Shall We"
 "All right" she assented, dropped into the leather chair, with her back to the shaded window. You better set down, too, I reckon. I hope you'll get something this time so you won't feel cross, but I dunno. I can't never tell what they'll do. We'll"
 She sighed, closed her eyes, and was silent, while Eugene, seated in the stiff chair across the table from her. watched her profile, thought himself an idiot and called himself that and other names. And as the silence con tinued. and the impasSive woman in the easY-chair remained impassiVe, he