“Oh, Mr. V.V.!” she repeated in a low eager voice, hardly above a whisper....  “I been havin’ the loveliest dreams!...”

The young man put out a hand and pressed it firmly against her hot forehead.

“Lie down, little Kern.”

She lay down obediently, her face wearing a strange half-smile.  Though her eyes were wide, her look was that of a person between sleeping and waking:  she showed no surprise at Mr. V.V.’s being there by her bedside.

“Mr. V.V., I had on a white sating Persian dress, lowneg, and embroidery and loops of pearls put on all over it, and white sating pumps, and a fan all awstritch feathers.  I was at a German—­y’ know?—­”

“You mustn’t talk now, Kern.  Put your arm under the cover and go back to sleep—­”

“Lemme, Mr. V.V.!  Please.  It’s on’y a minute to tell.  Can’t I, sir?...  I was at a German, with ladies and gempmen, and there was pink lights—­and vi’lins—­and plants—­and little presents they give you for dancin’—­and flowers—­and such lovely clo’es!...  On’y I didn’t have a partner.  Like a stag, y’ know?  And then pretty soon I saw people looking at me, and kep’ on looking, and one of ’em that looked somep’n like Miss Masters, on’y it wasn’t her, says, ‘Wot’s that girl a-doin’ here?’ she says.  ‘Why, she’s a buncher down to Heth’s.’  So I walked on off and set down at my Writin’-Desk, and made out I didn’t notice and was writin’ notes or somep’n, like.  And then I looks up and they was all coming over to me, like sayin’ move on now, and then I looks off again and there was you and Miss Heth, settin’....”

Her listener was by no means surprised at the introduction of this name.  Many times had Kern spoken of her meeting with Miss Heth, that Sunday she took the note, though Mr. V.V. did not know that from that day dated her preference for white dresses, as compared with red....

“Settin’ on a velvet settee you was,” whispered Kern, her hand picking at the sheet, “by a founting, a boy with wings and a pink lamp on his head, pourin’ water out of a gool’ pitcher.  And I went runnin’ over to you to ast you must I go—­or somep’n.  And then up comes all the ladies and gempmen and says, ‘This girl don’t belong here,’ they says, ’she must go at once.’  And Miss Heth she gets up and says, ’Not at all, this here girl is a friend of me and Doctor’s.’  And I says, ’No, ma’am, it’s right what they say, I don’t belong here.’  But she says to them to leave me be.  ‘And do you, Co-rinne,’ she says—­just that away, like you used to say—­’do you, Corinne, come and set on this velvet settee with me and Doctor, and listen to this here founting play.’  And I felt sad someways and I says, ’Oh, no, ma’am, it’s all a mistake me being here, and these clo’es mustn’t belong to a workin’-girl like me.  I might go to school some day,’ I says, ’and be a writer sort of, mebbe; but I ain’t a lady, ma’am, Miss Heth, no, nor never will be.’  And Miss Heth she takes