White's. There was something white on it too, which sat up a minute, rubbed its eyes, and then with a little cry, disappeared once more under the covers.
"Good-night, Gesima," babbled Gerold, heavy with sleep.
When he cuddled down into the soft bed, his body and soul sank at once into unfathomable depths of comfort, and his dreams began to close over him again.
He thought he was sitting beside the willow-bordered brook in the pass, watching the water as it foamed towards a waterfall. His great-grandmother was sailing down the brook in a little paper boat, and she looked quite small, like a child, and not at all sick, but fresh and gay, young and lovely. As she passed she picked flowers on the banks, right and left. "Goodmorning, Granny," he said. Then she sprinkled water into his eyes with her fingers. When the water was gone and he could open them again he saw it was not his grandmother but Gesima, who turned back and laughed at him, teasing him.
_Page_132.jpg)
50
