Mary had slipped on a woolen wrapper before
she left her room and she put a piece of it between
his fingers.

"Rub that and see how thick and warm it is,"
she said. "I will pinch you a little if you like, to
show you how real I am. For a minute I thought
you might be a dream too."

"Where did you come from?" he asked.

"From my own room. The wind wuthered
so I couldn't go to sleep and I heard some one
crying and wanted to find out who it was. What
were you crying for?"

"Because I couldn't go to sleep either and my
head ached. Tell me your name again."

"Mary Lennox. Did no one ever tell you I
had come to live here?"

He was still fingering the fold of her wrapper,
but he began to look a little more as if he believed
in her reality.

"No," he answered. "They daren't."

"Why?" asked Mary.

"Because I should have been afraid you would
see me. I won't let people see me and talk me
over."

"Why?" Mary asked again, feeling more mystified
every moment.

"Because I am like this always, ill and having
to lie down. My father won't let people talk me

[[158]]

p157 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p158w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p159

v?