Elsie shut her eyes. She felt herself skimming through the air at a terrific pace—there was a sudden bang—and she woke up with a start to find herself sitting in the garden chair.
Her brother was standing in the middle of the lawn. His gun was at his shoulder, and he was just going to take a second shot at a large hawk, which he had missed with his first barrel.
Elsie jumped up with a wild scream.
"Stop, Jack!" she cried. "Stop!"
He was so surprised that he lowered his gun, and in another moment the hawk was out of sight.
"Why, Elsie," he said. "What's the matter? Did I frighten you."
"Oh, Jack!" she cried. "You were just going to shoot the hawk!"
"Yes, I know I was," he said, laughing. "It's after the young rooks. It had one in its claws just now."
"Jack!" said Elsie very solemnly. "That wasn't a young rook, that was me."
"What on earth do you mean, Elsie?" cried her brother. "You've been dreaming."