It's an awful state of things, positively awful.

To think that you are actually holding communication with familiar spirits! The vicar shall come here at once, and I'll get him to hold a service of exorcism.

I believe there is such a service, and----" "Oh, do, do, _do_!" screamed Austin, clapping his hands with delight.
"What fun it would be! Fancy dear Mr Sheepshanks, in all his tippets and toggery, ambling and capering round poor me, and trying to drive the devil out of me with a broomful of holy water! That's a lovely idea of yours, auntie.

Lubin shall come and be an acolyte, and we'll get Mr Buskin to be stage-manager, and you shall be the pew-opener.
And then I'll empty the holy-water pot over dear Mr Sheepshanks' head when he's looking the other way.

You _are_ a genius, auntie, though you're too modest to be conscious of it.