But the more she tried to capture the dream again, the more elusive it became. Something about his coming back — yes, that was it. She had dreamed he was here in the house. Perhaps there would be a letter in the morning post, for Father, of course, to say he was coming down to fetch something he had left behind. Or perhaps a car would just drive up and a strange man would get out, and that would be—oh, what was his name! Or perhaps—

The old magic reasserted itself in the same absorbing game. He would come back. She would see him—speak to him, at last. Perplexing things would get straightened out in the light of his wisdom and experience.

Cold water on her face, and the commonplace details of dressing dimmed the dream still more. But the feeling of expectancy persisted. Something had brought him suddenly nearer. Something was different. Something special.

Father and Aunt Effie had nearly finished breakfast when she entered the dining-room.

“Darling!” cried Aunt Effie in astonishment, dropping the Express. “You shouldn’t have got out of bed without letting me know! But how well you look this morning! Alan, I said she’d be better this morning, the way she went off to sleep last night! Look, Alan, you’d never know she’d been ill!”

“I knew it wasn’t a chill on the liver,” said Father, glancing at her round the Times. “She’s much too young for such things. Upset stomach, that’s what it was. Too much sweet stuff, no doubt. Fool of a doctor.”

“I had a lovely sleep,” said Sabrina, with a secret smile for the dream. “Nobody could stay in bed on a morning like this!” She kissed them both lightly, and went to inspect the sideboard hot-plates. “What can I have to eat?”

“I’ll ask them to boil you a little egg,” said Aunt Effie, and rang the bell.

“Oh, Auntie, can’t I have some bacon or something with it? I’m hungry!”

“Do you hear that, Alan, she’s hungry!”

“Kidneys,” said Father, folding the Times and preparing to disappear into the study. “Kidneys, my girl, that’s what you need. Make them feed you up. Too much of this eating off trays in bed!”

“There aren’t any more kidneys,” Sabrina discovered sadly at the sideboard. “There’s some bacon left, though. I’ll have some bacon.”

“I think a nice soft-boiled egg for our invalid, Jennie,” Aunt Effie was saying to the maid who stood smiling at Sabrina from behind Father’s chair.

“And some hot toast, Jennie,” pleaded Sabrina, carrying a plate with bacon on it to her place at the table. “I’m not an invalid any more.”

“Yes, miss, I can see that!” beamed Jennie. “Shall I make fresh tea?”

Aunt Effie felt the pot anxiously. She was full of futile small economies.