something dreadful happened, when I was punished or lessons were just too hateful, or you were late coming home, then I’d climb up and look at that boy in the frame for comfort. I think it would be very comfortable to have it with me along with your picture, Mother.”

Katherine did not answer this for some time. She stayed as still as a graven image in the starlight. Finally, without moving at all, and in a voice as cool as starlight, she asked, “But why did you make it a secret? I don’t understand a bit. I didn’t know you even knew there was a little upper drawer. It’s almost hidden, and there is a secret about the catch. You have to work it just so.”

“Yes, I know. And I can’t remember how or exactly when I discovered how to work it. At first, I do remember, it was just the frame I loved. It is a little wonder of a frame! The silver was so shining, and then the flowers and the fruit and the dragons are all so enchanting. I traced the dragons with my finger over and over and played they were alive. I thought it was too mysterious and lovely, all of it! It fascinated me in a way I could never tell you.”

Katherine remained silent and Kate went on: “It was only when I was older I began to look at the picture and feel about that so strangely. I discovered what a wonderful face that boy has. I pretended he was the Sandman, the one who gave me my dreams at night. I always had such wonderful dreams, Mother! Remember?”

Katherine did not answer, and Kate felt somehow impelled to go on. She was surprising herself in this account of past childish imaginings. She had never thought about it in words like this before.

“He’d be just the person to have made those dreams for me. His face said he knew them all and thousands and thousands more! Then, when I got older I forgot about his being the Sandman, and anyway, my dreams stopped being wonderful and were just silly. Then I called him the ‘Understander.’ When I especially wanted an understander I’d open the secret drawer—I could do it without climbing on a chair by then—and there he was, looking up at me out of the dragons and the fruit and the flowers with understanding.

“It was all just a notion, of course. Oh, am I talking nonsense, Mother? And was it nonsense to keep it so secret and all, always?”

Katherine answered emphatically, “No. Not nonsense a bit. Only surprisingly—intuitive. For, Kate, he is just the sort of person who could have made up those wonderful dreams you used 

 Prev. P 17/161 next