“Very well, thank you. I’ve had such a queer dream, d’you know?”
“Have you? Take your breakfast, mother, before tellin’ it. It’s all ready—there, fire away.”
“It was such a vivid one,” she resumed, when half through her third cup, “all about a fire, and you were in it too.”
Here she proceeded to relate her dream with the most circumstantial care. The Captain listened with patient attention till she had finished, and then said—
“It was no dream, mother. It’s said that the great fire of London was a real blessin’ to the city. The last fire in London will, I hope, be a blessin’ to you an’ me. It was real enough and terrible too, but through God’s mercy you have been saved from it. I managed to save your little odds and ends too. This is the noo ‘cabin,’ mother, that you wouldn’t consent to come to. Something like the old one, ain’t it?”
Mrs Roby spoke never a word, but looked round the room in bewilderment. Taking the Captain’s hand she kissed it, and gazed at him and the room until she fell asleep. Awaking again in half an hour, she finished her breakfast, asked for the old Bible, and, declaring herself content, fell straightway into her old ways and habits.