"I have slept. The cough woke me, but that is well, for I had a dreadful dream. I dreamed that papa and mamma—"
She stopped suddenly, and, though no one was looking at her, she hid her delicate face in the blue coverlet. So only in a whisper did she tell the end of her dream:
"They were angry at each other—so awfully angry—Ira put her arms around mamma—Maryan went away hissing. I hung to papa, and cried so, and cried."
In fact her eyes were then filled with tears from the dream. But she stretched in the bed, and, with her head on the pillows, thought, till she called again:
"Miss Mary! Are you sleeping?"
"No, dear; do you wish anything?"
Cara began in a loud voice:
"I wish immensely, immensely, Miss Mary, to go with you to England, to your father and mother. Oh, how I should like to be in that parsonage a while, where your sisters teach poor children and nurse the sick, and your mother makes tea at the grate for your father when he comes home after services. Oh, Mary, if you and I could go to that place! It is so pleasant there." In the blue light and in the silence her thin voice recalled the twittering of a lark.
"We will go there sometime, dear. Your parents will permit, and we will go. But sleep now."
"Very well, I will sleep. Good-night, Miss Mary—my dear, good
Miss Mary."