Her masterly instinct for
repose ran no risk of failure from misdirected energy. And to all
three secrecy, of course, was essential: "Don't never tell the others,
Uncle! Promise faithfully!"
For to every adventure Uncle Felix acted as audience, atmosphere, and
chorus. He watched whatever happened--audience; believed in its
reality--atmosphere; and explained without explaining away--chorus. He
had the unusual faculty of being ten years young as well as forty
years old, and a real adventure was not possible without him.
The secrecy, of course, was not preserved for long; sooner or later
the glory must be shared so that "the others" knew and envied. For
only then was the joy complete, the splendour properly fulfilled. And
so the old tired world went round, and life grew more and more
wonderful every day. For children are an epitome of life--a self-
creating universe.
That week was a memorable one for several reasons. Daddy, overworked
among his sealing-wax, went for a change to Switzerland, taking Mother
with him; Aunt Emily, in her black silk dress that crackled with
disapproval, went to Tunbridge Wells--an awful place in another
century somewhere; and Uncle Felix was left behind to "take charge of
''em'"--"'em" being the children and himself.
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