twinkling star—the queen of the stars. . . .
*****
When I came to my senses I lay a long time staring at the window. The cream curtains stirred listlessly under the gentle pressure of the garden-scented breeze. The evanescent odor of garden flowers pervaded the room. Through the curtains I could see diaphanous white wisps of clouds forming exotic patterns in the blue sky. As I turned my head to study my room, I felt a sharp pain at the back of my head. My mind was too busy with other thoughts to dwell long on that pain. I noticed, for one thing, that the rectangular mahogany table with the Chinese joss bookends on it was familiar. The rich carpet was decorated with nondescript floral patterns: the carpet was familiar—every object in the room was familiar. A quiescent, soothing thought pervaded my being: this was my room—my home. I entrenched my body deeper into the softness of the white bedclothes, and drew the silken cover over my chin. I sank my body deep into the cool fragrance—and purred.
"Have you ever watched a cat purr when you stroked it gently along the spine? I had often wondered if a human could feel the spontaneous beatitude a cat feels when it purrs. Well, when I became sensible that my slummy home on Broome Street was a horrible nightmare—and I would never again see my mother blowsy and dirty—that my sister Kate was in reality prim, neat and vivacious; that, in short, this luxury and beauty was reality, the nerves in my body tinglingly purred.
"The nightmare seemed to have endured for long ages—the misery of existence under impoverished conditions had seeped into my body as water is drawn into a sponge. I had been bloated with wretchedness. Now the sponge felt supple and clean. I let my body relax. I could feel my body purring and gurgling as under the gentle strokes of some soothing influence.
"I should have known better than to take the dream seriously. The thought of my unfilial attitude toward my mother nettled me. That there should have been such lack of sympathy between us even in a dream was annoying.
"I sensed a presence in my room, and turned to look. A clean, glorified Kate—my own sister Kate—was observing me solicitously. She moved silently over to me, and stooped to stroke my hair. A faint, evanescent odor of perfume emanated from her. Her dress came open at the bosom, revealing soft, pink flesh. I noted that she was beautiful—large blue eyes, well-formed features, small soft nose with sensitive, quivering nostrils. Strange, but I felt contrite for mistreating her in a dream. I took her hand in mine and squeezed it.
"'Feel better now, Danny boy?'
"It seemed ages since I had heard her say anything sympathetic to me. I felt moved almost to tears.
"'It was a nasty accident,' my sister continued, 'but it is not serious. You will be out of bed by tomorrow. We had Dr. Briggs.'
"'I must confess,' I managed to say, 'but I don't know what happened to me. Enlighten me, Katie dear.' I held her hand tightly.
"'Oh,' she said, 'Rankin misjudged the distance between a car coming our way and a tree. You went kerplop clear out of the car. There was a slight cut under your left ear—that's all. You're all right, Danny boy.'
"'We were in the Locomobile?'
"'Yes, of course, didn't you remember that?'
"'Our Locomobile is a light tan?' I persisted.
