ears--resisting almost its own
growth--would no longer be denied or concealed. Faith Gartney had
nestled herself into the very core of this true, upright heart,
unpersuadable by anything but clear judgment and inflexible conscience.

"I had a beautiful dream last night, Miss Faith," said Glory, one
morning, when Faith came over and found the busy handmaiden with her
churn upon the doorstone, "about Miss Henderson. I thought she was all
well, and strong, and she looked so young, and bright, and pleasant! And
she told me to make a May Day. And we had it out here in the field. And
everybody had a crown; and everybody was queen. And the little children
danced round the old apple tree, and climbed up, and rode horseback in
the branches. And Miss Henderson was out there, dressed in white, and
looking on. It don't seem so--just to say it; but I couldn't tell you
how beautiful it was!"

"Dreams are strange things," said Faith, thoughtfully. "It seems as if
they were sent to us, sometimes--as if we really had a sort of life in
them."

"Don't they?" cried Glory, eagerly. "Why, Miss Faith, I've dreamed on,
and on, sometimes, a whole story out! And, after all, we're asleep
almost as much as we're awake. Why isn't it just as real?"

"I had a dream that night of the fire, Glory. I never shall forget it. I
went to sleep there, on the sofa. And it seemed as if I were on the top
of a high, steep cliff, with no way to get down. And all at once, there
was fire behind me--a burning mountain! And it came nearer, and nearer,
till it scorched my very feet; and there was no way down. And then--it
was so strange!--I knew Mr. Armstrong was coming. And two hands took
me--just as his did, afterwards--and I felt so safe! And then I woke,
and it all happened. When he came, I felt as if I had called him."

The dasher of the churn was still, and Glory stood, breathless, in a
white excitement, gazing into Faith's eyes.

"And so you did, Miss Faith! Somehow--through the dreamland--you
certainly did!"

Faith went in to her aunt, and Glory churned and pondered.

Were these two to go on, dreaming, and calling to each other "through
the dreamland," and never, in the daylight, and their waking hours,
speak out?

This thought, in vague shape, turned itself, restlessly, in Glory's
brain.

Other brains revolved a like thought, also.

"Somebody talked about a 'ripe pear,' once. I wonder if that one isn't
ever going to fall!"

Nurse Sampson wonder