"Ellen," said Dan, playing with her fingers thoughtfully, "I have dreamed of Jo lately more often than usual, and to-night my thoughts dwell upon him so strongly that I shall not go to bed for a while."
"I will sit up with you, my dear."
The windows in the room were folding windows, and reached to the ground. Ellen opened them; and she and Dan were presently sitting beneath the veranda, he upon a chair, she upon the ground, with her head resting in his lap.
"Do you remember that Christmas night, Ellen, when Jo came home?"
"Yes, Dan."
"And the strange impression I had upon me that Jo was near us, although I had no actual knowledge of it?"
"Yes."
"I can see the street as we saw it then, Ellen, with its covering of snow, and that cruel black gash in it which the only man who passed tore with his feet. It was like an ill-omen. You see nothing to disturb the beauty of the scene, Ellen?"
"No; but why do you ask, my dear?"
"Because I have upon me to-night the same feeling that I had then; because notwithstanding that it is almost madness to say it and believe it, I believe that Jo is near us."