her. But--but"--she laid her open palm against her forehead in a
curious little gesture suggestive of the East--"but she pulls me
through my forehead, and when she pulls I've--I've _got_ to go! May I
_hold_ that elephant?"

The brain specialist looked straight into the strange eyes which smiled
confidingly back into his.

"Just a moment, sweetheart," said he. "What do your little friends,
and Nannie, and Auntie say when you tell them about the dreams?"

Leonie leant listlessly against the arm of the chair, and sighed as she
flashed a lightning glance at her aunt who was turning over a
periodical on a table by her side.

"I don't tell Nannie because I think she wouldn't weally understand,
and--and----"

Silence.

"Well, darling?"

"Auntie," she spoke in the merest whisper, "got awful cwoss the first
time I did tell her. She was going out to a dance, and I was telling
her whilst she was dwessing--it was a lovely dwess all sparkles and
little wosebuds--and I upset a bottle of scent over her gloves. The
scent too was like my dweams, just like--like--oh! I don't know, and I
haven't any!"

Once more the man intuitively bridged the gulf.