"I couldn't make much out of anything else, Mr. Trant," the girl replied, after thinking an instant. "He seemed to have hallucinations so much of the time."
"Hallucinations?"
"Yes; he seemed to think I was singing to him—as I used to sing to him, you know, when we were first married—and he would catch hold of me and say, 'Don't—don't—don't sing!' Or at other times he would clutch me and tell me to sing low sing low!"
"Anything else?"
"Nothing else even so sensible as that," the girl responded. "Many things he said made me think he had lost his mind. He would often stare at me in an absorbed way, looking me over from head to foot, and say, "Look here; if anyone asks you—anyone at all—whether your mother had large or small feet, say small—never admit she had large feet, or you'll never get in. Do you understand?'"
"What?" The psychologist stood for several moments in deep thought; then his eyes flashed suddenly with excitement. "What!" he cried again, clutching the chair-back as he leaned toward her. "He said that to you when he was absorbed?"
"A dozen times at least, Mr. Trant," the girl replied, staring at him in startled wonder.
"Remarkable! Yes; this is extraordinary!" Trant strode up and down excitedly. "Nobody could have hoped for so fortunate a confirmation of the evidence in this remarkable case. We knew that Wal-
