The suddenness of this question, coming so quickly after the rambling discourse, made Laura start and colour. She was a fair, pretty girl, with yellow hair and a creamy complexion. Her eyes were dark, her mouth delightful, and her nose was "tip-tilted like the petal of a flower," to quote her favourite poet. Not a particularly original girl either in looks or character, but charming and sympathetic. Laura had a wide circle of friends who all loved her, but no one could call her clever. But she was so womanly that men liked her. "I am quite well, Mrs. Baldwin," she declared; "only I did not sleep much last night."
"Dreams! dreams!" moaned Mrs. Baldwin. "I had horrible dreams about you. I fancied I saw you eating bananas. Every one knows that means trouble. But pine-apples growing in ice are the worst," said Mrs. Baldwin. "I have never dreamed that. Trouble is coming to you."
"Don't!" cried Laura, starting to her feet, and with an anxious air; "please don't! I think dreams are nonsense."
"No," said Mrs. Baldwin, producing a small book from under her sofa pillow. "Read this, and see what it means to dream of sparrows pecking cats to death."
Laura laughed. "I should rather think the cats would eat the birds."
"Not in a dream. Everything goes by contraries in dreams. Before John Baldwin ran away, I dreamed he was rushing into my arms, crowned with honeysuckle. But that day he went. Didn't your walk last night do you good?"
"No," said Laura shortly, then went on with some hesitation. "I was away only for half an hour."
"Where did you go?"
"Across the fields."
"Thinking of Mr. Calvert, no doubt," said Mrs. Baldwin playfully.