bench in the garden. Bradford, because he expected to leave the
following Monday, his stay already having consumed more than the
intended two weeks; Cornwall, thinking that he would first like to show
Rosamond through his home.

While they were decorating the house, in which Mrs. Neal, Dorothy and
Rosamond assisted Mrs. Cornwall, he showed her over the house and
grounds and, pointing out the bench in the arbor, said: "Tonight,
Rosamond, at eleven I shall bring you out here and ask you something.
Watch the time and save that dance for me. If you do not, I may take it
for your answer."

When the hour came he claimed the dance. After dancing a minute or two,
they passed into the dining-room and out the side door into the moonlit
garden.

As they drew near the arbor they heard Bradley say: "This was my dream,
Dorothy." Cornwall, thinking of Dorothy's dream of two years before, and
remembering what she had recently said to him about dreams, was slightly
startled. He let go Rosamond's arm and unconsciously turned towards the
house. Rosamond, surprised and conscious of some subtle change in his
mood, suggested that they return to the ballroom.

Bradford, without giving Dorothy time for thought, brought her into the
garden and told his dream of the night before.

"Last night I came directly home after I left you and went to my room.
Feeling I could not sleep, I sat in the window, looking out upon the
moonlit mountain side and the silent river, the moon seeming to make a
path of silver on the water to the base of the little trail up the
mountain where yesterday I told you that our friendship, at least to me,
grew stronger with each succeeding day. Then I said the simple prayer my
mother had taught me when a little boy and went to bed and to sleep.

"I dreamed that mother let go of my hand and I went forth alone, a
little boy in knee trousers, walking along a narrow path that followed
down the bank of a tiny rivulet. As I walked along I grew older, my
clothing changed to suit my age, the path began to broaden and the
stream to deepen, and I passed along through the school days and other
experiences of my boyhood, still following the broadening path and
deepening stream and passing one by one the experiences I have known.
The start was at sunrise and the day perhaps a third gone when, I, a
grown man, came out into a valley and to a river over which was a
fragile bridge. I saw that thousands of trails like my own converged