living creature in sight was a sleepy cock, which scuttled off noisily at
my approach. I entered a cowshed, where a fine, patient cow turned a
reproachful eye on me, as if rebuking me for my too early visit. I
cheerily clucked and slapped her on to her hoofs, and then, failing to
find any sort of cup or can, punched my hat inside out and filled it with
warm foaming milk. With this spoil I hurried back to our quarters.

I had to leave the door open, and this gave me light enough to look more
closely at my companion. She was still sleeping, her face calmly content,
and so had she slept through the night, for the coverlet of hay was rising
and falling undisturbed on her breast. It was now time to wake her, and,
having no free hand, I knelt down to nudge her with my elbow. As I did so,
her face changed. A look of concern came over it, then one of hesitation,
then a sweet smile, chasing each other as gleam chases gloom across the
meadows on an April day. She was dreaming, dreaming pleasantly, and it was
to a hard world that I awakened her.

At my second nudge she half-opened her eyes and murmured, "It's very
wide." Then my greeting aroused her fully, and she blushed wondrous red
and beautiful.

"Good morrow, Mistress Waynflete," said I. "I grieve to disturb you, and,
pray you, do not move too abruptly or over goes the breakfast."

"Good morrow, Master Oliver," she replied. "I have slept well. I feel as
if I've quite enjoyed it. We do enjoy sleep, I think, sometimes."

"Or the dreams it brings, madam."

She glanced quickly at me, as if afraid that I had the power of reading