She felt bewildered and oppressed.

"I wonder," she said falteringly, "if he could give me a sign?
I do so long to know if it is _really_ my dear, dear father." Blanche Farrow turned a little hot.

It was too bad of Bubbles to do the thing in this way! "He says--he says--I hear him say a word--" Bubbles stopped and knit her brows.

"'Girl, girl'-- no, it isn't 'girl'-- " "Girlie ?" murmured Helen under her breath.
"Yes, that's it! 'Girlie'-- he says _'girlie_.'" Helen Brabazon covered her face with her hands.

She was deeply moved.
What wonderful thing was this?
She told herself that never, never would she allow herself to speak lightly or slightingly of spiritualism again! As far as she knew, no one in that room, not even her uncle or aunt, was aware that "girlie" had been her long dead father's pet name for his only child.
And then, quite suddenly, Bubbles' voice broke into a kind of cry.