But Diana’s mystified face checked Rachel in the midst of her excited chattering. “Of course you don’t understand anything about it yet,” she exclaimed. “How stupid I am. I shall have to tell you everything from the beginning.” So she began the story of her first visit to the Museum, of the little old man who had spoken to her there, of the mysterious seven times bowing before the Rosetta Stone, and of all the marvels that had since happened. And as she talked, explaining and describing, she saw Diana beginning to “understand.” Her eyes grew bright with eagerness, and, when at last Rachel paused for breath, she slipped from the table and began to dance about the room in her delight and excitement. “I knew something like that might happen if only I could find out the way to make it,” she cried. “Because, do you know, Rachel, I often have dreams that are quite _real_—just as real as this room, and you, and the tables and chairs are now. In those sorts of dreams I go to places I’ve never seen in my life. Funny places where everything’s quite different. People wear different clothes, and don’t talk English—and yet I understand what they say. But I’m only there for a minute before I come back again to my own bed and my own bedroom. And then I’m most _awfully_ disappointed because I’m always quite sure that there’s a way of making the dream _last_, so that I can go on, and have adventures—instead of only seeing things in a sort of flash, you know.” “Mr. Sheston can make them last—if they _are_ dreams!” Rachel declared. “I have to call him ‘Mr. Sheston’ here,” she added. “But he’s really Sheshà and Cleon, and I expect ever so many other people as well. And yet all the _same_ person, you understand. In this life he just happens to be Mr. Sheston, that’s all.” “Oh, I _do_ wish I could see him,” sighed Diana. She had scarcely spoken before her wish was granted, for at the last word the door opened, and Mr. Sheston came in. Rachel gave a shriek of delight, and seizing Diana’s hand, dragged her to meet him. “This is Diana. She’s the seventh child of the seventh child, and she was born on the seventh of May, and everything that happens to her has _sevens_ in it, and she has dreams, and—” Rachel tripped over her words in her excitement, and Mr. Sheston laughed. “Your Aunt Hester told me to walk up,” he said in an ordinary everyday voice. “So this is Diana? How do you do, Diana?” He shook hands with her, and turned to Rachel. “I came to see whether you felt inclined for the Museum this afternoon. But as you have a friend with you—perhaps another time?” Diana gave a little gasp, and grew very pink, but seemed too shy to speak. But Rachel, who had seen a twinkle in Mr. Sheston’s eyes, laughed happily. “It’s just what Diana wants more than _anything_. Oh, do let’s put on our things at once.” She was running to the door when the old gentleman stopped her.