For to die is quite different from being not alive. This
feeling is the proof of eternal life--once alive, alive for ever. To
live is to feel this yearning, huge expectancy.
Daddy had taught them this, though, of course, they knew it
instinctively already. And any moment now the door would open and his
figure, familiar, yet each time more wonderful, would cross the
threshold, close the door behind him, and ... something desirable
would happen.
"I wish he'd hurry," said Tim impatiently. "There won't be any time
left." And he glanced at the cruel clock that stopped all their
pleasure but never stopped itself. "The motor got here hours ago. He
can't STILL be having tea." Judy, her brown hair in disorder, her belt
sagging where it was of little actual use, sighed deeply. But there
was patience and understanding in her big, dark eyes. "He's in with
Mother doing finances," she said with resignation. "It's Saturday.
Let's sit down and wait." Then, seeing that Maria already occupied the
big armchair, and sat staring comfortably into the fire, she did not
move. Maria was making a purring, grunting sound of great contentment;
she felt no anxiety of any kind apparently.
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