I don't like that much, because it's nice to wake up and feel how cosy it is in bed." "But, Cheri," pursued Jeanne after a few moments' silence, and a few more bites at her bread and butter, "there's one thing I don't understand.

It's about Dudu.

You said it wasn't a dream, you were sure.
Do you think he was really there, at the foot of the bed?
It might have been the firelight that made you think you saw the peacocks nodding, but it couldn't have been the firelight that made you think you saw Dudu." "No," said Hugh, "I can't understand it either.

If it was a dream it was a very queer one, for I never felt more awake in my life.

I'll tell you what, Jeanne, the next time I think I see Dudu like that I'll run and tell you." "Yes, do," said Jeanne, "though I don't know that it would be much good.
Dudu's dreadfully tricky." She had not told Hugh of the trick the raven had played her, though why she had not done so she could hardly have explained.