We sat at table on the lotus-eating veranda, served by the butterfly
maids, and ate strange foods and partook of a nectar called poi.
But the dream threatened to dissolve. It shimmered and trembled
like an iridescent bubble about to break. I was just glancing out
at the green grass and stately trees and blossoms of hibiscus, when
suddenly I felt the table move. The table, and the Madonna across
from me, and the veranda of the lotus-eaters, the scarlet hibiscus,
the greensward and the trees--all lifted and tilted before my eyes,
and heaved and sank down into the trough of a monstrous sea. I
gripped my chair convulsively and held on. I had a feeling that I
was holding on to the dream as well as the chair. I should not have
been surprised had the sea rushed in and drowned all that fairyland
and had I found myself at the wheel of the Snark just looking up
casually from the study of logarithms. But the dream persisted. I
looked covertly at the Madonna and her husband. They evidenced no
perturbation. The dishes had not moved upon the table. The
hibiscus and trees and grass were still there. Nothing had changed.
I partook of more nectar, and the dream was more real than ever.

"Will you have some iced tea?" asked the Madonna; and then her side
of the table sank down gently and I said yes to her at an angle of
forty-five degrees.

"Speaking of sharks," said her husband, "up at Niihau there was a
man--" And at that moment the table lifted and heaved, and I gazed
upward at him at an angle of forty-five degrees.

So the luncheon went on, and I was glad that I did not have to bear
the affliction of watching Charmian walk. Suddenly, however, a