`` What did I say that was nasty ? '' cried Felicity . `` I did n't say a single thing . '' `` Well , it sounded nasty , '' said Peter , who knew that it is the tone that makes the music . `` What did your Aunt Jane look like ? '' asked Cecily sympathetically . `` Was she pretty ? '' `` No , '' conceded Peter reluctantly , `` she was n't pretty -- but she looked like the woman in that picture the Story Girl 's father sent her last week -- the one with the shiny ring round her head and the baby in her lap . I 've seen Aunt Jane look at me just like that woman looks at her baby . Ma never looks so . Poor ma is too busy washing . I wish I could dream of my Aunt Jane . I never do . '' '' ` Dream of the dead , you 'll hear of the living , ' '' quoted Felix oracularly . `` I dreamed last night that I threw a lighted match into that keg of gunpowder in Mr. Cook 's store at Markdale , '' said Peter . `` It blew up -- and everything blew up -- and they fished me out of the mess -- but I woke up before I 'd time to find out if I was killed or not . '' `` One is so apt to wake up just as things get interesting , '' remarked the Story Girl discontentedly . `` I dreamed last night that I had really truly curly hair , '' said Cecily mournfully . `` And oh , I was so happy ! It was dreadful to wake up and find it as straight as ever . ''
XXXXX , that sober , solid fellow , dreamed constantly of flying through the air .
Cecily Cook Felix Jane Markdale Peter mess night picture thing