But inside, close by the brightly-blazing wood fire, Jeanne and Hugh found themselves “very well,” as the little girl called it, very well indeed.  And the hot coffee was very nice, much nicer, Hugh thought, than the very weak tea which his grandmother’s maid used to give him for breakfast at home.  He stirred it round and round slowly with his spoon, staring into his cup, while he repeated, in answer to little Jeanne’s question about what he had dreamt, “No, I don’t know.”

“But you did dream something,” said Jeanne rather impatiently.  “Can’t you tell me about it?  I thought you were going to have all sorts of funny things to tell me.  You said you would have a party of the peacocks and all the pets, and make them tell stories.”

“Yes,” said Hugh slowly.  “But I couldn’t make them—­I must wait till they come.  I think I did dream some funny things last night, but I can’t remember.  There seemed to be a lot of chattering, and once I thought I saw the raven standing at the end of the bed, but that time I wasn’t dreaming.  I’m sure I wasn’t; but I was very sleepy, and I couldn’t hear what he said.  He seemed to want me to do something or other, and then he nodded his head to where the peacocks are, and do you know, Jeanne, I thought they nodded too.  Wasn’t that funny?  But I daresay it was only the firelight—­the fire had burnt low, and then it bobbed up again all of a sudden.”

“And what more?” asked Jeanne eagerly.  “O Cheri, I think that’s wonderful!  Do tell me some more.”

“I don’t think I remember any more,” said Hugh.  “After that I went to sleep, and then it was all a muddle.  There were the chickens and Nibble and the tortoise all running about, and Dudu seemed to be talking to me all the time.  But it was just a muddle; you know how dreams go sometimes.  And when I woke up the fire was quite out and it was all dark.  And then I saw the light of Marcelline’s candle through the hinge of the door, and she came to tell me it was time to get up.”

“Oh dear,” said Jeanne, “I do hope you’ll dream some more to-night.”

“I daresay I shan’t dream at all,” said Hugh.  “Some nights I go to sleep, and it’s morning in one minute.  I don’t like that much, because it’s nice to wake up and feel how cosy it is in bed.”

“But, Cheri,” pursued Jeanne after a few moments’ silence, and a few more bites at her bread and butter, “there’s one thing I don’t understand.  It’s about Dudu.  You said it wasn’t a dream, you were sure.  Do you think he was really there, at the foot of the bed?  It might have been the firelight that made you think you saw the peacocks nodding, but it couldn’t have been the firelight that made you think you saw Dudu.”

“No,” said Hugh, “I can’t understand it either.  If it was a dream it was a very queer one, for I never felt more awake in my life.  I’ll tell you what, Jeanne, the next time I think I see Dudu like that I’ll run and tell you.”