"Let's try," she whispered breathlessly.
For a minute and a half they stared into each other's eyes, knowing
themselves balanced upon the verge of an immense discovery. She did
not doubt or question; she did not tell him he was only humbugging.
Her heart thrilled with the right conditions--expectation and delight.
Her dark-brown eyes were burning.
He murmured something that she did not properly understand:
Expect and delight
Is the way to invite;
Delight and expect,
And you'll know things direct!
"Let's try!" she repeated, and her face proved that she fulfilled his
conditions without knowing it; she was delighted, and she expected--
everything.
He scratched his head, wrinkling up his nose and pursing his lips for
a moment. "There's a dodge about it," he explained. "To know a flower
yourself you must feel exactly like it. Its life, you see, is
different to ours. It doesn't move and hurry, it just lives. It feels
sun and wind and dew; it feels the insects' tread; it lifts its skin
to meet the rain-drops and the whispering butterflies. It doesn't run
away. It has no fear of anything, because it has the whole green earth
behind it, and it feels safe because millions of other daisies feel
the same"--
"And smells because it's happy," put in Judy.
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