"I think," announced Judy one day--then stopped, as though unsure of
herself.
"Yes?" said her Uncle encouragingly.
"I think," she went on, "that the Night-Wind knows an awful lot, if
only--" she stopped again.
"If only," he helped her.
"We," she continued.
"Could," he added.
"Catch it!" she finished with a gasp, then stared at him expectantly.
And his answer formed the subject of conversation for fully half an
hour in the bedroom later, and for a considerable time after Jackman
had tucked them up and taken the candle away. They watched the shadows
run across the ceiling as she went along the passage outside; they
heard her steps go carefully downstairs; they waited till she had
safely disappeared, for the door was ajar, and they could hear her
rumbling down into the lower regions of Mrs. Horton's kitchen--and
then they sat up in bed, hugged their knees, shuddered with
excitement, and resumed the conversation exactly where it had been
stopped.
For Uncle Felix had given a marvellous double-barrelled answer. He had
said, "We can." And then he had distinctly added, "We will!"
CHAPTER VII
IMAGINATION WAKES
For the Night-Wind already had a definite position in the mythology of
the Old Mill House, and since Uncle Felix had taken to reading aloud
certain fancy bits from the storicalnovul he was writing at the
moment, it had acquired a new importance in their minds.
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