Ann ended with a hysterical sob. Jerome and Elmira exchanged terrified glances.
“That was a beautiful dream, mother,” Jerome said, soothingly. “Now try to eat your supper.”
“It's been so real all day. I feel as if—your father had come an' gone again,” Ann sobbed.
“Try and eat some of this milk-toast, mother; it's real nice,” urged Elmira.
But Ann could eat no supper. She seemed completely unstrung, for some mysterious reason. They persuaded her to go to bed early; but she was not asleep when they went up-stairs, about ten o'clock, for she called out sharply to know if it was still snowing.
“No, mother,” Jerome answered, “I have just looked out, and there are some stars overhead. I guess the storm is over.”
“Oh, Jerome, you don't suppose mother is going to be sick, do you?” Elmira whispered, when they were on the stairs.
“No, I guess she's only nervous about her dream. The storm may have something to do with it, too.”
“Oh, Jerome, I feel exactly as if something was going to happen!”
“Nonsense,” said Jerome, laughing. “You are nervous yourself. I'll give you and mother some valerian, both of you.”