The white, dusty road gleamed
through the hole in a spot of shining white.
"Hush!" whispered their guide. "There's something moving."
"Perhaps it's Jinks in his cemetery," thought Judy after a pause to
listen.
"No," said Uncle Felix with decision. "It's outside. It's on the--
road!"
His earnestness on these occasions always thrilled them; his gravity
and the calm way he kept his head invariably won their confidence.
"The London Road!" they repeated. That meant the world.
"Something going past," he added, listening intently. They listened
intently with him. All four were still holding hands.
"The great High Road outside," he repeated softly, while they moved
instinctively to the highest part of the tree whence they could see
over the fence. They craned their necks. The dusty road was flowing
very swiftly, and like a river it had risen. Never before had it been
so easily visible. They saw the ruts the carts had made, the hedge
upon the opposite bank, the grassy ditch where the hemlock grew in
feathery quantities. They even saw loose flints upon the edge. But the
actual road was higher than before. It certainly was rising.
Pages:
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129