‘You put them on the dressing-table.’
‘Well, they aren’t there now,’ said she.
‘Then it was a dream,’ said he; ‘and we both dreamed it.’
The two looked at each other blankly.
‘I dreamed I dressed his wounds—sponged his feet, I mean,’ she added, after a pause full of doubt. ‘The mud was thick—if it wasn’t a dream it’ll be in the basin.’
But Jane knew her duty too well for there to be anything in the basin except a bright brass can of hot water with a clean towel laid neatly across it.
‘Well, the fern-seed did something, anyhow, if it only made us both dream like that,’ said Caroline. But Charles wanted to know how she knew they hadn’t dreamed the fern-seed as well.
‘Oh, you get dressed,’ said his sister shortly, and went to her own dressing.
Charlotte, when really roused, owned that she remembered Rupert’s coming. But, if he had come, he had gone and left no trace. And it is rare for boys to do that.