For somebody certainly was there--some one whom the
children, moreover, took absolutely for granted.
There had been surprise outside the door, but there was none when they
were in. Something like a dream, it seemed, this absence of
astonishment, though, of course, no one took it in that way. For, at
first, no one spoke at all. The children went to their places, lifting
the covers to see what there was to eat. They did the normal, natural
thing; eyed and sniffed the porridge, cream, brown sugar, and
especially approved the dish of comfortable, fat poached eggs on
toast. They were satisfied with what they saw; everything was as it
ought to be--plentiful, available, on hand. There was enough for
everybody.
But Uncle Felix paused a moment just inside the open door, and stared;
he looked about him as though the incredible thing had really happened
at last. A rapt expression passed over his face, and his eyes seemed
fixed upon something radiant that hung upon the air. He sighed, and
caught his breath. His heart grew amazingly light within him. Every
thought and feeling that made up his personality--so it felt, at
least--had wings of silver tipped with golden fire.
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