At Maria she looked down. "You know nothing anyhow," her
expression said, "so you _must_ agree."
"I don't finish," said Maria quietly, whereupon Tim, feeling that the
original question was being shelved, made preparation to obliterate
her--when Uncle Felix intervened with a longer observation of his own.
"It's not such a bad idea," he said, glancing sideways at Maria with
approval, "that circle business. Everything certainly goes _round_.
The earth is round, and the sun is round, and, as Maria says, a circle
never finishes." He paused, reflecting deeply.
"But who made the circle," demanded Tim.
"That _is_ the point," agreed Uncle Felix, nodding his head. "Some one
must have made it--some day--mustn't they?"
They stared at him, as probably the animals stared at Adam, wondering
what their splendid names were going to be. The yearning in their eyes
was enough to make a rock produce sweet-scented thyme. Even the looper
steadied its pin-point head to listen. But nothing happened. Uncle
Felix looked dumber than the clock. He looked hot, confused, and
muddled too. He kept his eyes upon the grass. He fumbled in his
pockets for a match.
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