One wakes up happy in the morning
and sees only the bright side of things. Hope is active, and one has
new courage somehow.' She spoke with feeling, her face was brighter,
clearer, her mind less anxious. She had planned a visit to the Bank
Manager about the mortgages. It had come as an inspiration. It might
be fruitless, but she was hopeful, and so knew a little peace. 'I
wonder why it is,' she added, 'and what brings these changes into the
heart so suddenly.'
'Good sleep and sound digestion,' Mrs. Campden thought. She expressed
her views deliberately like this in order to counteract any growth of
fantasy in the children.
'But it is strange,' her husband said, remembering his new story; 'it
may be much deeper than that. While the body sleeps the spirit may get
into touch with helpful forces----' His French failed him. He wumbled
painfully.
'Thought-forces possibly from braver minds,' put in Rogers. 'Who
knows? Sleep and dreaming have never really been explained.' He
recalled a theory of Minks.
'_I_ dream a great deal,' Miss Waghorn observed, eager to take part.
'It's delightful, dreaming--if only one could remember!' She looked
round the table with challenge in her eager old eyes. But no one took
her up. It involved such endless repetition of well-known stories. The
Postmaster might have said a word--he looked prepared--but, not
understanding English, he went on with his salad instead.
Pages:
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317