"The truth is," she announced, "I'm trying to remember a dream I had last night." She looked across the table to me. "You know what it is to dream something rather vivid and interesting, and then not to be able to remember what it was?"
I nodded.
"But you can't do anything," I said. "It's no good trying to remember it. Either you'll think of it, or you won't."
"Exactly," said my brother-in-law. "There's no other alternative. It's one of the laws of Nature. I well remember dreaming that I was a disused columbarium which had been converted into a brewery and was used as a greenhouse. I was full of vats and memorial tablets and creeping geraniums. Just as they were going to pull me down to make room for a cinema, Daphne woke me up to say there was a bat in the room. I replied suitably, but, before turning over to resume my slumbers, I tried to recapture my dream. My efforts were vain. It was gone for ever."
"Then how d'you know what it was about?" said Jill.
"I don't," said Berry. "What I have told you is pure surmise. And now will you pass me the toast, or shall I come and get it?"
Choking with indignation, Jill stretched out a rosy hand in the direction of the toastrack.... Suddenly the light of mischief leapt into her grey eyes, and she called Nobby. In a flash the Sealyham—never so vigilant as at meal-time—was by her side. Cheerfully she gave him the last piece of toast. Then she turned to Berry with a seraphic smile.
"I'm afraid there's none left," he said.
Before we had finished lunch, the rain had ceased, and by the time we were under weigh, en route for Broken Ash, the afternoon sun was turning a wet world into a sweet-smelling jewel. Diamonds dripped from her foliage, emerald plumes glistened on every bank, silver lay spilt upon her soft brown roads. No scent-bag was ever stuffed with such rare spicery. Out of the dewy soil welled up the fresh clean breath of magic spikenard, very precious.