Mollie sat up. The rain was still splashing on the window-panes, but Aunt Mary was drawing the curtains, and a cheerful little fire had been lighted. There was a pleasant tinkle of china as tea-cups were settled on the tray. "Have I been asleep?" she asked incredulously. (It surely was not all a _dream_!) "A beautiful sleep," Aunt Mary answered; "and now tea, and after tea--you shall see what you shall see." CHAPTER III The Fortune-makers or The Cherry-garden Mollie was rather silent at tea-time. She could not help thinking of those other children in that long-ago far-away garden. Were they real? Or had it all been a dream? It _must_ have been a dream, she thought--such things do not happen in real life--it was impossible that it should have been true. And yet, never before had she dreamt anything so clearly, so "going-on" as she expressed it to herself. She longed to tell Aunt Mary all about it, but the memory of her vow restrained her. If nothing further happened, in course of time she would feel free to tell of her wonderful experience, but in the meantime she must have patience. She racked her brains to think of some roundabout way of introducing the subject of Australia and the year 1878, but could not get past her vow--it seemed to block the way in every direction. So she ate her little triangles of toast--made in a particularly fascinating way peculiar to Grannie's housekeeping--without enjoying the scrunch, scrunch between her teeth so much as usual. Even the early strawberries and cream found her somewhat absent-minded. But after tea was cleared away and the room tidied up, Aunt Mary disappeared for a short time and returned with her hands behind her back. She stood before Mollie, and in a solemn voice chanted the following words: "Neevie neevie nick nack, Which hand will ye tak? Tak the right or tak the wrong, I'll beguile ye if I can." This was too interesting to be ignored. Mollie sat up and became her ordinary self again. She looked critically at Aunt Mary's arms, shoulders, and eyes, but got no information from any of these. Then she laughed: "I _won't_ have the wrong, please, I'll have the right." Aunt Mary laughed too. "You are too clever, Miss Mollie. That is not the way _I_ did neevie-neevie when I was young." She brought her right hand round as she spoke, and in it was a charming box, large, varnished, and clamped at the corners with brass. She laid it on Mollie's lap, and watched the sliding lid being pulled out by a pair of impatient hands. It was a beautiful jig-saw puzzle. "Oh, where _did_ you get it?" Mollie cried joyfully. "I _adore_ jig-saw puzzles. You are a lovely, lovely aunt!" and she held out her arms for a hug and a kiss.