you must tell it me, dearest mamma. Not that it can really signify what you dreamt; still I want to know it.’
‘Well, I will then, Lesbie, since you insist upon it. I daresay you'll think it very fantastic and pointless; however, here it is. I found myself at a garden party at Ruddymere Park, just such as you described to me last time you and Theo went. Strange to say, I was there, you were not!’
‘That's just like a dream,’ said Lesbia. ‘Well, mamma?’
‘Lord and Lady Humnoddie,’ resumed Mrs Newman, ‘were standing chatting and laughing with a few friends just in front of where I was. I didn’t hear what they said, for a singular reason. My whole attention was absorbed—I couldn’t help it—in gazing at that pretty green hill with large elms on its summit which you must have remarked, Lesbie, about a couple of miles away, I should think, to the north; you must have noticed it, for it’s the only hill to speak of in this part of the county.’
‘Yes, yes; I know it well; they call it Screechowl Hill. I was there not long ago with the Frogmore bicyclists; the highroad runs straight up over it, and we tried to ride it, but not one of us could get half way except Mr Lyttelhurst, who managed about three quarters, then had to jump off by the pedal. Well, mamma, now what did you dream about Screechowl Hill?’
‘I stood looking at that hill,’ continued Mrs Newman, ‘I suppose because the weather seemed to be clouding over behind it, and already I felt the close sensation one gets when a storm is brewing. ‘I’m afraid we're going to have a change,’ I said to Lady Humnoddie, who came for a moment to my elbow. No answer. I repeated what I had said, and turned to her. She was gone. So were all the other people. I was left alone on the slope of the lawn;-but I felt no surprise—none. A powerful attraction made me gaze at that hill again, and forget everything else. The
