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Moon-Face and Other Stories-Part17_JACK LONDON(1876-1916)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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easily moving casters. The third support, placed at the apex of the triangle,

was a lead pencil.



"Who's first?" Uncle Robert demanded.

There was a moment's hesitancy, then Aunt Mildred placed her hand on the



board, and said: "Some one has always to be the fool for the delectation of

the rest."



"Brave woman," applauded her husband. "Now, Mrs. Grantly, do your worst."

"I?" that lady queried. "I do nothing. The power, or whatever you care to



think it, is outside of me, as it is outside of all of you. As to what that

power is, I will not dare to say. There is such a power. I have had evidences



of it. And you will undoubtedly have evidences of it. Now please be quiet,

everybody. Touch the board very lightly, but firmly, Mrs. Story; but do



nothing of your own volition."

Aunt Mildred nodded, and stood with her hand on Planchette; while the rest



formed about her in a silent and expectantcircle. But nothing happened. The

minutes ticked away, and Planchette remained motionless.



"Be patient," Mrs. Grantly counselled. "Do not struggle against any influences

you may feel working on you. But do not do anything yourself. The influence



will take care of that. You will feel impelled to do things, and such impulses

will be practically irresistible."



"I wish the influence would hurry up," Aunt Mildred protested at the end of

five motionless minutes.



"Just a little longer, Mrs. Story, just a little longer," Mrs. Grantly said

soothingly.



Suddenly Aunt Mildred's hand began to twitch into movement. A mild concern

showed in her face as she observed the movement of her hand and heard the



scratching of the pencil-point at the apex of Planchette.

For another five minutes this continued, when Aunt Mildred withdrew her hand



with an effort, and said, with a nervous laugh:

"I don't know whether i did it myself or not. I do know that I was growing



nervous, standing there like a psychic fool with all your solemn faces turned

upon me."



"Hen-scratches," was Uncle Robert's judgement, when he looked over the paper

upon which she had scrawled.



"Quite illegible," was Mrs. Grantly's dictum. "It does not resemblewriting at

all. The influences have not got to working yet. Do you try it, Mr. Barton."



That gentleman stepped forward, ponderously willing to please, and placed his

hand on the board. And for ten solid, stolid minutes he stood there,



motionless, like a statue, the frozen personification of the commercial age.

Uncle Robert's face began to work. He blinked, stiffened his mouth, uttered



suppressed, throaty sounds, deep down; finally he snorted, lost his

self-control, and broke out in a roar of laughter. All joined in this



merriment, including Mrs. Grantly. Mr. Barton laughed with them, but he was

vaguely nettled.



"You try it, Story," he said.

Uncle Robert, still laughing, and urged on by Lute and his wife, took the



board. Suddenly his face sobered. His hand had begun to move, and the pencil

could be heard scratching across the paper.



"By George!" he muttered. "That's curious. Look at it. I'm not doing it. I

know I'm not doing it. look at that hand go! Just look at it!"



"Now, Robert, none of your ridiculousness," his wife warned him.

"I tell you I'm not doing it," he replied indignantly. "The force has got hold



of me. Ask Mrs. Grantly. Tell her to make it stop, if you want it to stop. I

can't stop it. By George! look at that flourish. I didn't do that. I never



wrote a flourish in my life."

"Do try to be serious," Mrs. Grantly warned them. "An atmosphere of levity



does not conduce to the best operation of Planchette."

"There, that will do, I guess," Uncle Robert said as he took his hand away.



"Now let's see."

He bent over and adjusted his glasses. "It's handwriting at any rate, and



that's better than the rest of you did. Here, Lute, your eyes are young."

"Oh, what flourishes!" Lute exclaimed, as she looked at the paper. "And look



there, there are two different handwritings."

She began to read: "This is the first lecture. Concentrate on this sentence:



'I am a positive spirit and not negative to any condition.' Then follow with

concentration on positive 1ove. After that peace and harmony will vibrate



through and around your body. Your soul--The other writing breaks right in.

This is the way it goes: Bullfrog 95, Dixie 16, Golden Anchor 65, Gold



Mountain 13, Jim Butler 70, Jumbo 75, North Star 42, Rescue 7, Black Butte 75,

Brown Hope 16, Iron Top 3."



"Iron Top's pretty low," Mr. Barton murmured.

"Robert, you've been dabbling again!" Aunt Mildred cried accusingly.






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