The child shivered in the man's arms.

"Who told you it was strangled?"

"Auntie!"

The man's hand closed for a moment on a heavy paper-weight as he looked
across the room at the woman who was waggling her foot and knitting her
scanty brows at the sound of the rending sobs.

"Auntie was mistaken, darling. Kitty was asleep, tired out with
playing or running away from the dog next door."

Leonie shook her head. "Kitty's dead," she wailed, "lying all black
and quiet, like--like my dweams!"

There was a moment's pregnant silence, during which Leonie turned round
and snuffled into the great man's collar, and he frowned above the
russet head as he drew a block of paper and pencil towards him.

"What dreams, darling?"

"Don' know--dweams I dweam!"

The specialist sat still for a second and then laughed, the great kind
laugh of a man with a big heart who adores children.

"Let's play a game, Leonie! You tell me about the dreams, and I'll
tell you about my new motor-car, and the one who tells best will get a