MINERVA

ut I dreamt about you, anyway. That’s something, ain’t it?” “It ain’t much—a cat does that much—but it’s better than nothing. What did you dream?” “Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to him.” “Well, so we did. So we always do. I’m glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us.” “And I dreamt that Joe Harper’s mother was here.” “Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?” “Oh, lots. But it’s so dim, now.” “Well, try to recollect—can’t you?” “Somehow it seems to me that the wind—the wind blowed the—the—” “Try harder, Tom! The wind did blow something. Come!” Tom pressed his fingers on his forehead an anxious minute, and then said: “I’ve got it now! I’ve got it now! It blowed the candle!” “Mercy on us! Go on, Tom—go on!” “And it seems to me that you said, ‘Why, I believe that that door—’” “Go _on_, Tom!” “Just let me study a moment—just a moment. Oh, yes—you said you believed the door was open.” “As I’m sitting here, I did! Didn’t I, Mary! Go on!” “And then—and then—well I won’t be certain, but it seems like as if you made Sid go and—and—” “Well? Well? What did I make him do, Tom? What did I make him do?” “You made him—you—Oh, you made him shut it.” “Well, for the land’s sake! I never heard the beat of that in all my days! Don’t tell _me_ there ain’t anything in dreams, any more. Sereny Harper shall know of this before I’m an hour older. I’d like to see her get around _this_ with her rubbage ’bout superstition. Go on, Tom!” “Oh, it’s all getting just as bright as day, now. Next you said I warn’t _bad_, only mischeevous and harum-scarum, and not any more responsible than—than—I think it was a colt, or something.” “And so it was! Well, goodness gracious! Go on, Tom!” “And then you began to cry.” “So I did. So I did. Not the first time, neither. And then—” “Then Mrs. Harper she began to cry, and said Joe was just the same, and she wished she hadn’t whipped him for taking cream when she’d throwed it out her own self—” “Tom! The sperrit was upon you! You was a prophesying—that’s what you was doing! Land alive, go on, Tom!” “Then Sid he said—he said—” “I don’t think I said anything,” said Sid. “Yes you did, Sid,” said Mary. “Shut your heads and let Tom go on! What did he say, Tom?” “He said—I _think_ he said he hoped I was better off where I was gone to, but if I’d been better sometimes—” “_There_, d’you hear that! It was his very words!” “And you shut him up sharp.” “I lay I did! There must ’a’ been an angel there. There _was_ an angel there, somewheres!” “And Mrs. Harper told about Joe scaring her with a firecracker, and you told about Peter and the Pain-killer—” “Just as true as I live!” “And then there was a whole lot of talk ’bout dragging the river for us, and ’bout having the funeral Sunday, and then you and old Miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went.” “It happened just so! It happened just so, as sure as I’m a-sitting in these very tracks. Tom, you couldn’t told it more like if you’d ’a’ seen it! And then what? Go on, Tom!” “Then I thought you prayed for me—and I could see you and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark, ‘We ain’t dead—we are only off being pirates,’ and put it on the table by the candle; and then you l