“I wish now I’d thought,” said Tom, with a repentant tone; “but I dreamt about you, anyway. That’s something, ain’t it?”

“It ain’t much — a cat does that much — but it’s better than nothing. What did you dream?”

“Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to him.”

“Well, so we did. So we always do. I’m glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us.”

“And I dreamt that Joe Harper’s mother was here.”

“Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?”