"And does it matter much?"
"It matters a great deal, yes, because I want to find out, and cannot.
And the burning goes on and on whenever I see the thing-that-nobody-
can-understand, and even when I don't see it but just think about it--
which is pretty often. Because, if I found out why it's there, I
should know so much that I should give up writing storicalnovuls and
become a sort of prophet instead."
They stared in great bewilderment. Their curiosity was immense. They
were dying to know what the thing was, but it was against the Rules to
ask outright.
"Were their lives _very_ dull?"--Maria set this problem, suddenly
recalling something at the beginning of the story.
"Oh, very dull indeed. They had no sense of wonder--those who forgot."
"How awful for them!"
"Awful," he agreed, in a long-drawn whisper, shuddering.
And that shudder ran through every one. The children turned towards
the darkening room. The gloomy cupboard was a blotch of shadow. The
table frowned. The bookshelves listened. The white face of the cuckoo
clock peered down upon them dimly from the opposite wall, and the
chairs, it seemed, moved up a little closer.
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