Cuxson. "What colour are your
dreams?"

"_Black_!" was the unexpectedly decisive reply. "Black with lots of
wed--wet wed--and gween eyes--lots and lots of eyes--and--and soft
things I can't see, and--noises like kit--kit--kitty makes when she
purrs!"

"Yes?"

"Yes! and people with soft feet like the--the slippers Nannie wears at
night so that I can't hear them. And--and that's all!"

She laughed like the child she ought to have been as she bit the end
off a big pink fondant which had materialised out of one of a dozen
little drawers in the desk, then holding up the other end to the man
laughed again spontaneously and delightfully as he pushed the sweet
into her mouth.

Then he put her on her feet, tilted the little white face back till the
strong light shone into the opalescent, gold-flecked eyes, kissed the
curly head and told her to run round the room, open the cabinet doors
and look at the hidden treasures.

"May I touch them?"

"Of course, sweetheart!"

"I'm vewy sowwy _you_ didn't win," she said in her old-fashioned way,
"because you are vewy, vewy nice. And"--she continued, suddenly
harking hack as a child will to a previous remark--"and it is all vewy,
vewy black, with a teeny, weeny light like the night-light Nannie
lights, and----!"

She stopped dead and buried her head in the middle of Sir Jonathan's
waistcoat, fumbling his coat sleeves with her nervous little hands.

"Yes, darling!" said the man, without a trace of expression in his
voice as he held up a finger warningly to the woman who had rustled in
her chair.

"And--and sometimes there's a black woman. And I'm--I'm fwightened of
her 'cause she calls me, and--and--pulls me out of bed by my head."

"How do you mean, darling? Does she catch hold of your hair? It must
hurt you dreadfully!"

Leonie suddenly stood up, nervously pulling at the man's top waistcoat
button as she furtively glanced first over one shoulder and then over
the other.

"No! she doesn't touch me," she faltered, "and I--I don't always see
her. But--but"--she laid her open palm against her forehead in a
curious little gesture suggestive of the East--"but she pulls me
through my forehead, and when she pulls I've--I've _got_ to go! May I
_hold_ that elephant?"

The brain specialist looked straight into the strange eyes which smiled
confidingly back into his.

"Just a moment, sweetheart," said he. "What do your little friends,
and Nannie, and Auntie say when