" That this particular day could end did not even suggest itself.
On his way down the passage, Judy and Tim came dancing from their
rooms to meet him. They, too, were dressed in their everyday-adventure
things, no special sign of Sunday anywhere about them--slipped into
their summery clothing as naturally as birds and flowers grow into the
bright and feathery stuff that covers them. This notion struck him,
but faintly; it was not a definite thought. He might as well have
noticed, "Ah, the sky is dressed in light, or mist! The wind blows it
into folds and creases!" Yet the notion did strike him with its little
dream-like hammer, because with it came a second tiny blow, producing,
it seemed, a soft blaze of light behind his eyes somewhere: "I've
recovered the childhood sense of reality, the vivid certainty, the
knowledge!... Somebody's coming.... Somebody's here--hiding still,
perhaps, yet nearer..." It flashed like a gold-fish in some crystal
summer fountain... and was gone again.
In the passage Judy touched his hand, and said confidingly, "You will
take me to the end of the world to-day, Uncle."
It was true and possible.
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