Page 164 of 167

First, she dreamed of little Alice herself, and once again the

tiny hands were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes

were looking up into hers-she could hear the very tones of her

voice, and see that queer little toss of her head to keep back

the wandering hair that would always get into her eyes-and still

as she listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around her

became alive with the strange creatures of her little sister's

dream.