that he'd squirmed himself through the skeeter-nettin' door int'
the house, and then I surmised where he was. Sure enough, I crep'
upstairs and there he was, layin' between the two children as snug as
you please. He was snorin' like a pirate when I found him, but when I
stood over the bed with a candle I could see 't his wicked little eyes
was wide open, and he was jest makin' b'lieve sleep in hopes I'd leave
him where he was. Well, I yanked him out quicker 'n scat, 'n' locked him
in the old chicken house, so I guess he'll stay out, now. For folks that
claim to be no blood relation, I declare him 'n' the boy 'n' the baby
beats anything I ever come across for bein' fond of one 'nother!"

There were dreams at the White Farm that night. Timothy went to sleep
with a prayer on his lips; a prayer that God would excuse him for
speaking of Martha's doorplate, and a most imploring postscript to the
effect that God would please make Miss Vilda into a mother for Gay;
thinking as he floated off into the land of Nod, "It'll be awful hard
work, but I don't suppose He cares how hard 't is!"

Lady Gay dreamed of driving beautiful white horses beside sparkling
waters ... and through flowery meadows ... And great green birds perched
on all the trees and flew towards her as if to peck the cherries of her
lips ... but when she tried to beat them off they all turned into
Timothys and she hugged them close to her heart ...

Rags' visions were gloomy, for he knew not whether the Lady with the
Firm Hand would free him from his prison in the morning, or whether he
was there for all time ... But there were intervals of bliss when his
fancies took a brighter turn ... when Hope smiled ... and he bit the
white cat's tail ... and chased the infant turkeys ... and found sweet,
juicy, delicious bones in unexpected places ... and even inhaled, in
exquisite anticipation, the fragrance of one particularly succulent bone
that he had hidden under Miss Vilda's bed.

Sleep carried Samantha so many years back into the past that she heard
the blithe din of carpenters hammering and sawing on a little house
that was to be hers, his, _theirs_. ... And as she watched them, with
all sorts of maidenly hopes about the home that was to be ... some one
stole up behind and caught her at it, and she ran away blushing ... and
some one followed her ... and they watched the carpenters together. ...
Somebody else lived in the little house now, and Samantha never blushed
a