Theobald screamed.

Theobald screamed.

“It’s all right, dear,” Githa murmured, rubbing his arm. “I think it was only thunder.” It had awoken her a short while before. It was funny how Theobald hadn’t reacted for a minute or two.

“Mama?” Athelis called anxiously from her bed on the floor.

“It’s all right, darling,” she called. “It was only thunder.”

“And father?”

“He was dreaming. Go back to sleep, darling.”

Githa laid her head on the pillow again.

Githa laid her head on the pillow again, but she soon realized that Theobald was panting as if he had been running.

“Theobald?”

Theobald swung his legs out from under the blankets and sat on the edge of the bed.

Theobald sat on the edge of the bed.

“What is it, dear? Did you have a bad dream? Did the thunder wake you?”

“Thunder?” he said at last.

Githa got out of bed and looked out the window. The night was bright with the light of the moon, and the sky was clear and starry.

“That’s funny,” she chirped. “I thought I heard thunder. I must have been dreaming too.”

“I heard it too, Mama,” Athelis said.

“Perhaps we all had the same dream!” Githa suggested with a laugh.

“No!” Theobald moaned.

Worried, Githa came around to his side of the bed.

Githa came around to his side of the bed.

“Did you have a nightmare?” she asked gently.

“A nightmare?” he replied thoughtfully. “I suppose it was. I suppose that’s all it was,” he said with some relief. “Dear God!” he added in a whisper as he rose.

“Come back to bed,” she said, fingering the curls at the ends of his wild red hair. “This time you shall have the same dream as Athelis and me, and I promise it will be sweet.”

'I promise it will be sweet.'