Mrs. James said she thought it was very unkind, and if people were all as prejudiced as I was, there would never have been the electric telegraph or the telephone.

I said that was quite a different thing.

Mrs. James said sharply:  “In what way, pray—­in what way?”

I said:  “In many ways.”

Mrs. James said:  “Well, mention one way.”

I replied quietly:  “Pardon me, Mrs. James; I decline to discuss the matter.  I am not interested in it.”

Sarah at this moment opened the door and showed in Cummings, for which I was thankful, for I felt it would put a stop to this foolish table-turning.  But I was entirely mistaken; for, on the subject being opened again, Cummings said he was most interested in Spiritualism, although he was bound to confess he did not believe much in it; still, he was willing to be convinced.

I firmly declined to take any part in it, with the result that my presence was ignored.  I left the three sitting in the parlour at a small round table which they had taken out of the drawing-room.  I walked into the hall with the ultimate intention of taking a little stroll.  As I opened the door, who should come in but Gowing!

On hearing what was going on, he proposed that we should join the circle and he would go into a trance.  He added that he knew a few things about old Cummings, and would invent a few about Mrs. James.  Knowing how dangerous Gowing is, I declined to let him take part in any such foolish performance.  Sarah asked me if she could go out for half an hour, and I gave her permission, thinking it would be more comfortable to sit with Gowing in the kitchen than in the cold drawing-room.  We talked a good deal about Lupin and Mr. and Mrs. Murray Posh, with whom he is as usual spending the evening.  Gowing said:  “I say, it wouldn’t be a bad thing for Lupin if old Posh kicked the bucket.”

My heart gave a leap of horror, and I rebuked Gowing very sternly for joking on such a subject.  I lay awake half the night thinking of it—­the other hall was spent in nightmares on the same subject.

May 31.—­I wrote a stern letter to the laundress.  I was rather pleased with the letter, for I thought it very satirical.  I said:  “You have returned the handkerchiefs without the colour.  Perhaps you will return either the colour or the value of the handkerchiefs.”  I shall be rather curious to know what she will have to say.

More table-turning in the evening.  Carrie said last night was in a measure successful, and they ought to sit again.  Cummings came in, and seemed interested.  I had the gas lighted in the drawing-room, got the steps, and repaired the cornice, which has been a bit of an eyesore to me.  In a fit of unthinkingness—­if I may use such an expression,—­I gave the floor over the parlour, where the seance was taking place, two loud raps with the hammer.  I felt sorry afterwards, for it was the sort of ridiculous, foolhardy thing that Gowing or Lupin would have done.