All afternoon till tea-time Papa and Uncle Victor walked up and down the
garden path, talking to each other. Every now and then Mark and Mary
looked at them from the nursery window.
That night she dreamed that she saw Aunt Charlotte standing at the foot
of the kitchen stairs taking off her clothes and wrapping them in white
paper; first, her black lace shawl; then her chemise. She stood up
without anything on. Her body was polished and shining like an enormous
white china doll. She lowered her head and pointed at you with her eyes.
When you opened the stair cupboard door to catch the opossum, you found a
white china doll lying in it, no bigger than your finger. That was Aunt
Charlotte.
In the dream there was no break between the end and the beginning. But
when she remembered it afterwards it split into two pieces with a dark
gap between. She knew she had only dreamed about the cupboard; but Aunt
Charlotte at the foot of the stairs was so clear and solid that she
thought she had really seen her.
Mamma had told Aunt Bella all about it when they talked together that
day, in the drawing-room. She knew because she could still see them
sitting, bent forward with their heads touching, Aunt Bella in the big
arm-chair by the hearth-rug, and Mamma on the parrot chair.