I was glad to hear my sister playing for me down stairs, only it was the
same tune always, and I wished that she would play more softly.
And the pillow was hard, but I did not mind that so much, for my mother
stood over me, looking very sweet and grave, and she said: "Why didn't
you tell us that the pillow was hard!"
My father was there, too, and repeated the same question, and my
brothers,--they all kept saying: "Why didn't you tell us that the pillow
was hard?" and seemed to be pitying me and admiring me at the same time,
until John Cable came in, friend of the old Newtown days, and his face
was hard and stern.
"Why didn't you tell me the pillow was hard?" he said. "Now, I can't wake
you! Don't you see, I can't wake you, now?" and he shook his head and
would not look at me. So they took him out of the room, and went on
pitying and admiring me, but my sister kept playing louder and louder,
and it troubled me so that I could not rest. Then I heard a voice, that
was not in my dream, calling to me in a sharp, clear, cheering tone,
"Teacher! Teacher!" and I looked up to see Luther coming towards me in a
boat, his face aglow with excitement.
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