Peter Rolls wondered whether he would like to ask his sister Ena if
she knew the visions, or even if, being a woman, she could form any
theory to account for them. It would be interesting to see what she
would say; but then, unless she were too seasick, she would probably
laugh, and perhaps tell Lord Raygan.
As for the visions themselves, only one had spirit enough left in her
to be able to laugh at being thought a dryad or a mystery. She alone
of the five would have known what "dryad" means. And she could always
laugh, no matter how miserable or how sick she was.
That day she was very sick indeed. They were all very sick, but she
could not help seeing, at her worst, that it was funny.
"For heaven's sake, what are you giggling at?" snapped the longest,
slimmest, most abnormal dryad, diaphanously draped in yellow, when she
could gasp out an intelligible sentence after an exhausting bout of
agony.
"Us," said the girl who could always laugh, a vision in silver.
"Us? I don't see anything funny about us!" groaned a tall dream in
crimson and purple.
"Funny! I should think not!" snorted a fantasy in emerald.
"It makes me worse to hear you laugh," squealed a radiance in rose.
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