pths of them as I entered the bedroom of my
foremothers. Deep crimson coals of fire were in a squat fireplace, and a
last smoldering log of some kind of fragrant wood broke into fragments and
sent up a little gust of blue and gold flame as if in celebration of my
arrival. There was the remnant of a candle burning on a small table beside
a bed that was very near, if not quite, five feet high, beside which were
steps for the purposes of ascension. All the rest of the room was in a blur
of lavender-scented darkness, and I only saw that both side walls folded
down and were lit with the deep old gables, through the open windows of
which young moon rays were struggling to help light the situation for me.
As I looked at that wide, puffy old bed, with a blur of soft colors in its
quilt and the valance around its posts and tester, I suddenly became as
utterly weary as a child who sees its mother's arms outstretched at
retiring time. I don't know how I got out of my clothes and into my lace
and ribbons, with only the flickering candle and the dying log to see by,
but in less time than I ever could have dreamed might be consumed in the
processes of going to bed I climbed the little steps and dived into the
soft bosom of the old four-poster.

"God bless me and keep me in His care here in my grandmother's bed," I
murmured after the invocation of Uncle Cradd, and that is all I knew after
the first delicious sink and soft huddling of my body between sheets that
felt as if they must be rich silk and smelled of old lavender.

And then came a dream--a most lovely dream. I was at the opera in Gale
Beacon's box, and Mr. G. Bird was out on the stage singing that glorious
coo in the aria in Saint-Saens' "Samson and Delilah," and I was trying to
answer him. Suddenly I was wide awake sitting up in a billowed softness,
while moonlight of a different color was sifting in through the gable
windows and the most lovely calling notes were coming in on its beams.
Without a moment's hesitation I answered in about six notes of that Delilah
song which was the only sound ready in my mind. Then I listened and I am
not sure that I heard a reedy laugh under my window as just the two notes
succeeding the ones I had given forth came in on the dawn beams. Then all
was as still and quiet as the hush of midnight.

In about two seconds I had vaulted forth from between the high posts,
splashed into a funny old wooden tub bound together with brass rims,
whirled my