CHAPTER XXII. 



Mrs. Dickinson dreamed a dream. 



Whether the champagne or the equestrian garments with 

 which Lavvy had supplied her, or a combination of both, fur- 

 nished materials for the vision matters not — she dreamed 

 a dream. 



Arrayed in unfamiliar apparel and mounted on a foaming 

 steed, which appeared ready at any moment to slip from 

 under her, she confronted the Vicar, who, clad in a suit of 

 mail but otherwise unarmed, sat and smiled at her from the 

 depths of an arm-chair ; between them Miss Badsworth, in 

 evening dress, reclined upon a sofa and persisted, as people do 

 in dreams, in talking of anything except the matter in hand. 



Mrs. Dickinson harangued, but whenever she approached 

 a convincing peroration her steed displayed a propensity to 

 sit down and join in. 



Clinging desperately to a mane which came out in hand- 

 fuls, she became aware of a voice which said : — 



** You shouldn't sleep on your back. It's five o'clock." 



Mrs. Dickinson opened dazed eyes, uttered a subdued 

 shriek, clutched the bedclothes and drew them up to her 

 chin ; the reason being that a youth in a stained red coat, 

 Bedford cord breeches and top-boots, with a pair of spurs in 

 his hand, stood beside her bed, urging her to jump up or 

 else she would be late. 



Mrs. Dickinson took in every detail, from the neatly 

 folded scarf, fastened by a fox-tooth pin, to the shining boots. 



" It's only me," Lavvy said, smiling at the other lady's 

 look of terror. 



''You! I thought " 



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