Hark! Come out and play!
There is no hurry; life has just begun.
The voice died away among the rose trees, and the birds burst into a
chorus of singing everywhere, as if they carried on the song among
themselves. Then, in its turn, their chorus also died away. Tim looked
at his sister. He seemed about to burst--if not into song, then into a
thousand pieces.
"A leader!" he exclaimed, scarcely able to get the word out in his
excitement. "Did you hear it?"
"Tim!" she gasped--and they flew out, hand in hand still, to join
their uncle in the sunshine.
"Found anything?" he greeted them before they could say a word. "I
heard some one singing--a man, or something--over there among the rose
trees--"
"And the birds," interrupted Judy. "Did you hear them?"
"Uncle," cried Tim with intense conviction, "it's a sign. I do believe
it's a sign--"
"That's exactly what it is," a deep voice broke in behind them "--a
sign; and no mistake about it either."
All three turned with a start. The utterance was curiously slow; there
was a little dragging pause between each word. The rose trees parted,
and they found themselves face to face with some one whom they had
seen twice before in their lives, and who now made his appearance for
the third time therefore--the man from the End of the World: the
Tramp.
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