'There are days like that,' she added presently, 'days when everything goes right and easily. One wakes up happy in the morning and sees only the bright side of things. Hope is active, and one has new courage somehow.' She spoke with feeling, her face was brighter, clearer, her mind less anxious. She had planned a visit to the Bank Manager about the mortgages. It had come as an inspiration. It might be fruitless, but she was hopeful, and so knew a little peace. 'I wonder why it is,' she added, 'and what brings these changes into the heart so suddenly.'
'Good sleep and sound digestion,' Mrs. Campden thought. She expressed her views deliberately like this in order to counteract any growth of fantasy in the children.
'But it is strange,' her husband said, remembering his new story; 'it may be much deeper than that. While the body sleeps the spirit may get into touch with helpful forces——' His French failed him. He wumbled painfully.
'Thought-forces possibly from braver minds,' put in Rogers. 'Who knows? Sleep and dreaming have never really been explained.' He recalled a theory of Minks.
'I dream a great deal,' Miss Waghorn observed, eager to take part. 'It's delightful, dreaming—if only one could remember!' She looked round the table with challenge in her eager old eyes. But no one took her up. It involved such endless repetition of well-known stories. The Postmaster might have said a word—he looked prepared—but, not understanding English, he went on with his salad instead.
'Life is a dream,' observed Monkey, while Jinny seemed uncertain whether she should laugh or take it seriously.
The Widow Jequier overheard her. There was little she did not overhear.
'Coquine!' she said, then quoted with a sentimental sigh:—
La vie est breve,
Un peu d'amour.
Un peu de rive
Et puis—bonjour!
She hung her head sideways a moment for effect. There was a pause all down the long table.