ber, yet remembering the triumph of hypnotism, Tims did feel a
little uneasy. She spoke to Miss Burt again about Milly's prolonged
sleep, but Miss Burt was not inclined to be anxious. She had strictly
forbidden Tims to hypnotize--or as she called it, mesmerize--any one in
the house, so that Tims said no more on the subject. She was working at
the Museum in the early part of the afternoon, only leaving it when the
light began to fail. But after work she went straight back to Ascham.
Milly was still asleep, but she had slightly shifted her position, and
altogether there was something about her aspect which suggested a
slumber less profound than before. Tims leaned over her and spoke
softly:

"Wake up, M., wake up! You've been asleep quite long enough."

Milly's body twitched a little. A responsive flicker which was almost a
convulsion, passed over her face; but she did not awake. It was evident,
however, that her spirit was gradually floating up to the surface from
the depths of oblivion in which it had been submerged. Tims took off her
Tam-o'-Shanter and ulster, and revealed in the simple elegance of the
tweed frock with green waistcoat and gaiters, put the kettle on the
fire. Then she went down-stairs to fetch some bread and butter and an
egg, wherewith to feed the patient when she awoke.

She had not long left the room when the slumberer's eyes opened
gradually and stared with the fixity of semi-consciousness at a stem of
blossoming jessamine in the wall-paper. Then she slowly stretched her
arms above her head until some inches of wrist, slight and round and
white, emerged from the strictly plain night-gown sleeve. So she lay,
till suddenly, almost with a start, she pulled herself up and looked
about her. The gaze of her wide-open eyes travelled questioningly around
the quiet-toned room which two windows at right angles to each other
still kept light with the reflection of a yellow winter sunset. She
pushed the bedclothes down, dropped first one bare white foot, then the
other to the ground and looked doubtfully at a pair of worn felt
slippers which were placed beside the bed, before slipping her feet into
them. With the same air as of one assuming garments which do not belong
to her, she put on the faded blue flannel dressing-gown. Then she walked
to the southern window. None of the glories of Oxford were visible from
it; only the bare branches of trees through which appeared a huddle of
somewhat sordid looking roof