after she had tucked herself up in bed she was quite sound asleep, and did not wake for several hours.
"I wonder what it will all look like in the morning," was her last waking thought. "If it was summer now, or spring, I shouldn't mind—there would always be something nice to do then."
As sometimes happens, when she woke again, very early in the morning, long before it was light, her thoughts went straight on with the same subject.
"If it was summer now, or spring," she repeated to herself, just as if she had not been asleep at all—like the man who fell into a trance for a hundred years just as he was saying "it is bitt—" and when he woke up again finished the sentence as if nothing had happened—"erly cold." "If only it was spring," thought Griselda.
Just as she had got so far in her thoughts, she gave a great start. What was it she heard?
