After finishing her breakfast Gladys joined her aunt in the garden.
"To dream of flowers and trees evidently means bad news," she said.
"But as I feel in a mood for a walk, I shall call at the Vicarage."
"What, now! At this hour!" Miss Templeton cried aghast.
"Why not?" Gladys said imperturbably. "I'm not going to pay a call.
They haven't called on us. I shall say I've merely come to make an
inquiry. Can she tell me of any one who interprets dreams? Come with
me!"
But as her aunt pleaded an excuse, Gladys went alone.
The Vicar was in the garden in his shirt sleeves, and though obviously
surprised to see Gladys, seemed quite prepared to enter into
conversation with her. But Gladys was not enamoured of clergymen. Her
ways were not their ways, and she had come strictly on business.
Consequently she somewhat curtly demanded to be conducted into the
presence of his wife, who received her very affably.
"Why, how very strange," she observed when Gladys had stated the
object of her visit. "I was asked a similar question only yesterday. A
Miss Rosenberg, who is staying with us, had an extraordinary dream
about trees and flowers--only it took the form of a poem, which she
awoke repeating. There were several verses--quite doggerel it is
true--but nevertheless rather remarkable for a dream. She wrote them
down, and asked me if I could tell her whether there was any hidden
meaning in them. Here they are," and she handed Gladys two pages of
sermon paper on which was written--
"In the greenest of green valleys,
Aglow with summer sun,
Lived a maiden fair and radiant,
More radiant there was none.
Pages:
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127