Sidney shook her. 'Wake up, Sheilah,' he commanded.
She responded almost immediately, looked at him, raised her hand, and touched his cheek to see if he were real, sighed, 'Father,' and then sank back into his arms, her body melting against him again.
'Did you have a bad dream?'
'Yes.' She spoke with difficulty as if she had been running hard. 'I often have it. It was worse this time.'
'Well, dreams can't hurt you,'
'No, but they can frighten you dreadfully!'
'But it's good to wake up.'
'For a minute it's good. Till the real things begin frightening you. Where's mother?'
'In her room.'
'I've done a dreadful thing to her.'
'No, you haven't. I think she's asleep. She'll be all right in the morning.'
There was a long pause.
'Father'
'Yes.'
'Father' It was very still in the room. The glimmer of light from the hall made a soft brown mist over everything. The stillness and the brown mist covered you, shielded you, and the touch of a rough sleeve smelling of tobacco, against your cheek, gave you a feeling of strength and courage. 'Father,'
