lights went out again, and after a few final giggles from Lloyd and
Betty, silence settled once more over the house. But the terror of the
nightmare had taken such hold upon Mary that she could not close her
eyes.

"Joyce," she whispered, "do you mind if I come over into your bed? I'm
nearly paralyzed, I'm so scared again."

Slipping across the floor as soon as Joyce had given a sleepy consent,
Mary crept in beside her sister in the narrow bed, and lay so still she
scarcely breathed, for fear of disturbing her. Presently she reached out
and gently clasped the end of Joyce's long plait of hair. It was
comforting to be so near her. But even that failed to convince her
entirely that the dream was a thing of imagination. It seemed so real,
that several times before she fell asleep she laid her hands against her
face to make sure that her fingers had not developed claws, and that no
fur had started to grow on them.

The dreams told around the breakfast-table next morning seemed tame in
comparison to Mary's recital the night before. Rob had had none at all,
which was interpreted to mean that he would live and die an old
bachelor. Miles Bradford had a dim recollection of being in an
automobile with a girl who seemed to be a sort of a human kaleidoscope,
for her face changed as the dream progressed, until she had looked like
every woman he ever knew. They could think of no interpretation for that
dream. Lloyd's was fully as indefinite.

"I thought I was making a cake," she said, "and there was a big bowl of
eggs on the table. But every time I started to break one Mom Beck would
say, 'Don't do that, honey. Don't you see it is somebody's haid?' And
suah enough, every egg I took up had somebody's face on it, like those
painted Eastah eggs; Rob's, and Phil's, and Malcolm's, and Doctah
Bradford's, and evah so many I'd nevah seen befoah."

"A very appropriate dream for a Queen of Hearts," said Phil, "and
anybody can see it's only a repetition of Mammy Easter's fortune, the
'row of lovahs in the teacup.' Tell us which one you are going to
choose."

"It's Joyce's turn," was the only answer Lloyd would make.

"And my dream was positively brilliant," replied Joyce. "I thought we
were all at The Beeches, and Allison, and Kitty, and all of us were
making Limericks. Kitty began:

"'There was a lieutenant named Logan,
Who found one day a small brogan.'

Then she stuck, and couldn't get any farther, and Allis