"I fear it is problematical. I long to travel; but grandpapa has some business, and nurse has had a dream, which bodes evil for my wishes."
"Oh, the dream ought not to be classed with the business."
"I dare confess to you, and to you only," returned Kate, with a smile, "that it seems to shake my hopes far more than the business."
"The philosophic Miss Vernon—superstitious!"
"No, no! yet, you know—
'It may be a sound,
A tone of music, summer's eve, or spring;
A flower, the wind, the ocean, which shall wound,
Striking the electric chain wherewith we're darkly bound.'"
"Winter would say it was the east wind."