She hastened forward. 'We will go down and have our last meal at home,'
she said in the dialect of the country. 'We have five eggs. No meat for
you, dear, but enough bread and butter, some honey left, and plenty of
coffee. I should like to have left old Mariandl more, but we are unable
to do very much for poor people now. Milk, I cannot say. She is just
the kind soul to be up and out to fetch us milk for an early first
breakfast; but she may have overslept herself.'

Chillon smiled. 'You were right, Janet', about not going to bed last
night; we might have missed the morning.'

'I hate sleep: I hate anything that robs me of my will,' she replied.

'You'd be glad of your doses of sleep if you had to work and study.'

'To fall down by the wayside tired out--yes, brother, a dead sleep is
good. Then you are in the hands of God. Father used to say, four hours
for a man, six for a woman.'

'And four and twenty for a lord,' added Chillon. 'I remember.'

'A lord of that Admiralty,' she appealed to his closer recollection.
'But I mean, brother, dreaming is what I detest so.'

'Don't be detesting, my dear; reserve your strength,' said he. 'I suppose
dreams are of some use, now and then.'

'I shall never think them useful.'

'When we can't get what we want, my good Carin.'