I never knew 'appiness while
I kep' it. Watches and clocks only mean 'urry. It's an endless job,
tryin' to keep up with 'em. You've got to go so fast for one thing--I
never was a sprinter--bah!" he snorted--"there's nothing in it. Life
isn't a 'undred yards race. You miss all the flowers on the way at
that pace. And what's the prize?" He glanced down contemptuously at
his feet. "Worn-out boots. Yer boots wear out--that's all."
He looked round at the children, smiling wonderfully. Maria seemed to
understand him best, perhaps. She looked up innocently into his
tangled face. "That's it," he said, with another chuckle. "YOU know
wot I mean, don't yer, missie?" But Maria made no reply. She merely
beamed back at him till her face seemed nothing but a pair of wide
blue eyes.
"Stop yer clocks, go slow," the man murmured, half to himself, "and
you'll see what I mean. There's twice as much time as before. You can
do anything, everything,"--he spread his arms out--"because there's
never any 'urry. You'd be surprised."
"You're very hungry, aren't you?" inquired Tim, resenting the man's
undue notice of Maria.
The Tramp stared hard into the boy's unwavering eyes.
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