She glanced round the room with its high ceiling and shadowy corners and dim firelight.

"It looks quite like a dream, and it's the middle of the night, and everybody in the house is asleep--everybody but us.

We are wide awake." "I don't want it to be a dream," the boy said restlessly.
Mary thought of something all at once.
"If you don't like people to see you," she began, "do you want me to go away ?" He still held the fold of her wrapper and he gave it a little pull.
"No," he said.

"I should be sure you were a dream if you went.

If you are real, sit down on that big footstool and talk.