"At that I sprang into his arms, and kissed him, and said I would wait till he too was ready, and I held out my hand to you again, Phil, but you—" Millie's voice dropped to a whisper—"but you were gone. I could not see you anywhere; you were not in the shadow, nor in the moonlight. Then I called out loud for you, and I suppose that woke me; for the next minute I heard you say:
"'All right, Millie, I'm awake.'
"And then I knew that I had been dreaming."
"That was a strange dream," said Phil musingly. "It was striking six, I remember, when I heard you calling me just as you always do, this morning, so that you see was caused by the force of habit. But the first part of your dream was ghostly, Millie. We won't talk about it any more. Let us go home."
"It was not ghostly to me; it was a very beautiful dream, and I was only sorry when I woke," said Millie, rising. "Somehow it makes me believe just as mother did, that father is living, and will come back to us some day, as," she added, reverently folding her hands, "I pray God he may."
Well might Phil wish that he had his sister's hopeful, trusting spirit. He sighed as he watched her; then with a "Come, Millie," he hooked his arm in hers, and they turned towards home.
They had not gone many steps before they were met by a lady and gentleman. The former looked hard at Millie, then stopped, exclaiming:
"Why, Millie, is that you?"
Millie's joyous "O Miss Crawford" was answer enough.
"I suppose Phil brought you to get a little fresh air," she said with a smile. "I am glad of that, it will do you good."