Come on," said Geoffrey breathlessly, tugging at the door. "Come on!
they're all here."

"Come on, Hunt," said David Linton, jumping out. "Let me help
you--mind your hand."

"I suppose I'll wake up in a moment," said Major Hunt, getting out
slowly. "At present, it's a nice dream. I don't understand anything.
How are you, Miss Linton?"

"You don't need to wake up," said his wife, in a voice that shook a
little. Her brave eyes were misty. "Only, you're home."

"It's the loveliest home, Daddy!" Geoff's hand was in his father's,
pulling him on.

"There's tsickens!" said Alison in a high pipe. "An' a ackit wiv
toys."

"She means an attic," said Geoffrey scornfully. "Come on, Daddy.
We've got such heaps to show you."

Somehow they found themselves indoors. Norah and her father had
disappeared; they were all together, father, mother, and babies, in a
big room flooded with sunlight: a room covered with a thick red
matting with heavy rugs on it; a room with big easy-chairs and
gate-legged tables, and a wide couch heaped with bright cushions,
drawn close to an open casement. There was a fire of logs, crackling
cheerily in the wide fireplace: there were their own
belongings--photographs, books, his own pipe-rack and tobacco-jar:
there were flowers everywhere, smiling a greeting. Tea-cups and
silver sparkled on a white-cloth; a copper kettle bubbled over a
spirit-lamp. And there were his own people clinging round him,
welcoming, holding him wherever little hands could grasp: the babies
fresh, clean, even rosy; his wife's face, no longer tired. And there
was no Bloomsbury anywhere.

Major Hunt sat down on the sofa, disentangled Michael from his leg,
and lifted him with his good arm.

"It isn't a dream, really, I suppose, Stella?" he said. "I won't wake
up presently? I don't want to."

"No; it's just a blessed reality," she told him, smiling. "Hang up
Daddy's cap, Geoff: steady, Alison, darling--mind his hand. Don't
worry about anything, Douglas--only--you're home."

"I don't even want to ask questions," said her husband, in the same
dazed voice. "I find one has no curiosity, when one suddenly gets to
heaven. We won't be going away from heaven, though, will we?"

"No--we're permanent residents," she told him, laughing. "Now get
quite comfy; we'll all have tea together."

"Tea's is lovely here," confided Alison to him. "They's cweam--an'
cakes, _evewy_ day. An' the tsickens make weal eggs, in ne