The Treasure of Netherstrand

Chapter 51

"It's a dream," the boy thought. "Just a nice dream. That's all." He closed his eyes, and the scene vanished into darkness. But it was hard to get the vision out of his mind. He had seen glints of golden picture frames and graceful pieces of furniture. He had seen a big window draped with elegant curtains, and a starry sky sparkling behind the glass. But somehow, it didn't seem real to him.

He had dreamed so many dreams that even his memories about the storm seemed like a nightmare from his imagination. He thought he must still be lying in the attic room at Netherstrand. If that was so, morning would come soon, and then he would have to stumble out of bed. The very thought made him moan. He felt too tired to get out of bed. He felt too tired to move at all.

It was strange how weariness could make his hard straw mattress seem so soft and nice. That thought filled half of his dreams as he fell back to sleep. He knew that the luxury would disappear as soon as he woke up. He would be back in his lonely attic room. But when he opened his eyes again, he stared in confusion. Morning was smiling in through the window, the same gorgeous window he had seen hours before. Instead of fading, the scene had grown brighter. The lace curtains were glowing with blue twilight, and he could see a lovely painting on the wall. His bed was spacious with soft blankets, and he was surrounded by puffy pillows.

"It can't be real," he murmured, shutting the marvelous scene out again. "It's too good t' be real."

He wasn't quite asleep when he felt someone lay a hand on his forehead. To him, it felt like a very cold hand. But it was still pleasant, and he knew right away that it belonged to Arthur.

In his foggy dream-like recollections, he seemed to remember seeing a great deal of Arthur. The doctor had been beside him constantly. And sometimes, Gracie's sweet-toned voice had whispered a comforting word to him. But Timothy couldn't recall seeing a thing of Hannover, and when he thought about the man, a lonely ache troubled his heart.

"Arthur," he mumbled, "where's Mr. Hannover?"

"In his office, I imagine," the young man answered.

"What time is it?"

"It is only five in the morning."

Still sleepy and dazed, the boy repeated the time in his mind, anticipating the hour when he would have to begin his chores. He was completely sure that when the clock struck six he would be in his master's office, ready to run to the post. But he was glad that it was only five. Five o'clock meant it wouldn't be a crime for him to sleep for just a few more minutes. He tried to go back to sleep, but even though he wanted to doze off, he couldn't shake a feeling of restlessness.

"Is it six yet?" he asked, stirring from a miserable dream. "Is Mr. Hannover waitin' for me?"

"No, lad. Go back to sleep," the doctor answered.

"But his letters," the lad fretted, only half awake. "I gotta mail his letters!"

Arthur gave a brief reply and tried to calm the child's worried mind. But it was no use. All Timothy could do was think about Hannover and remember the times when the man had coldly sent him away. He wanted to get up and do his work, hoping and wishing that he could gain his master's favor again. Sometimes, he dreamed that he was in Netherstrand's parlor dusting ornaments and working his hardest. But when he woke, he found himself on that feather-soft bed mumbling Hannover's name.

Arthur could only understand part of what Timothy felt. He knew that the boy's diligent heart wanted to please his master, and he knew that the lad couldn't rest until his mind was set at ease. But he didn't know that Timothy's diligence was driven by a deep friendship and love. It was beyond his comprehension that anyone could be friends with the persnickety businessman. But as he watched Timothy's restlessness, he could see that Hannover was the only person who could give the lad peace. At last, he rose from his patient's bedside and walked silently from the room.