“My lord—he has been dreaming. He has had one or two of these fits before. Perhaps his fever and cold have had to do with it.” Then hastily to Giles who began to kick and beat, and went into a fresh fit of cries, “There, there, my dear, your papa has come to see you. Have you nothing to say to him?” But the little boy was not to be quieted. He was either still asleep, or, if awake, he saw something that bereft him of the power of regarding anything else. “There will be no questioning him, my lord, till he is thoroughly roused,” said the nurse. “Bring me a glass of water.” Whilst the woman went for the tumbler, Lord Lamerton seated himself on the bedside, and drew the little boy up, and seated him on his lap. “Giles, my darling, what is the matter?” Then the little fellow clung round his father’s neck, and the tears broke from his eyes, and he began to sob. “What is the matter, my pet, tell me? Have you had bad dreams? Here, drink this draught of cold water.” “No, no, take it away,” said the child. “I want papa to stay. Papa, you won’t be taken off, will you? Papa, you will not leave me, will you?” “No, my dear. What have you been thinking about?” “I have not been thinking. I saw it.” “Saw what, Giles?” Lord Lamerton stroked the boy’s hair; it was wet with perspiration, and now his cheeks were overflowed with tears. The shrieks had ceased. He had recovered sufficient consciousness to control himself; “Papa, I was at the window.” “What, in your night-shirt? After you had been put to bed? That was wrong. With your heavy cold you should not have left your bed.” The child seemed puzzled. “Papa, I do not understand how it was. I would not have left bed for the world, if I thought you did not wish it; and I do not remember getting out—still, I must have got out; for I was at the window.” “He has not left his bed. He has been dreaming, my lord,” explained the nurse in an undertone; and Lord Lamerton nodded. “Papa, dear.” “Yes, my pet.” “Are you listening to me?” “I am all attention.” “Papa, I was at the window. But I am very sorry that I was there, if you are annoyed. I will not do it again, dear papa. And the moon was shining brightly on the drive. You know how white the gravel is. It was very white with the moon on it. I did not feel at all cold, papa; feel me, I am quite warm.” “Yes, my treasure, go on with your story.”