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"
How about miracles now?" said Mr. Fotheringay at last, addressing his
reflection.
The subsequent meditations of Mr. Fotheringay were of a severe but
confused description. So far, he could see it was a case of pure willing
with him. The nature of his experiences so far disinclined him for any
further experiments, at least until he had reconsidered them. But he
lifted a sheet of paper, and turned a glass of water pink and then
green, and he created a snail, which he miraculously annihilated, and
got himself a miraculous new tooth-brush. Somewhen in the small hours he
had reached the fact that his will-power must be of a particularly rare
and pungent quality, a fact of which he had certainly had inklings
before, but no certain assurance. The scare and perplexity of his first
discovery was now qualified by pride in this evidence of singularity and
by vague intimations of advantage. He became aware that the church clock
was striking one, and as it did not occur to him that his daily duties
at Gomshott's might be miraculously dispensed with, he resumed
undressing, in order to get to bed without further delay. As he
struggled to get his shirt over his head, he was struck with a brilliant
idea. "Let me be in bed," he said, and found himself so. "Undressed," he
stipulated; and, finding the sheets cold, added hastily, "and in my
nightshirt--no, in a nice soft woollen nightshirt. Ah!" he said with
immense enjoyment. "And now let me be comfortably asleep...."
He awoke at his usual hour and was pensive all through breakfast-time,
wondering whether his overnight experience might not be a particularly
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