The smile upon the great woodland face broadened perceptibly. It was
as though the sun burst through a cloud. "That's hard to say," he
replied, "when the whole place is singing. I'm just like everything
else--alive. It's natural to sing, and natural to dance--when you're
alive and looking--and know it."
He spoke with a sound as though he had swallowed the entire morning, a
forest rustling in his chest, singing water just behind the lips.
_"Looking!"_ exclaimed Uncle Felix, picking out the word. He moved
closer; the children caught his hands; the three of them sheltered
against the spreading figure till the four together seemed like a
single item of the landscape. "Looking!" he repeated, "that's odd.
We've lost something too. You said too,--just now--something about--a
sign, I think?" Uncle Felix added shyly.
All waited, but the Tramp gave no direct reply. He smiled again and
folded two mighty arms about them. Two big feathery wings seemed round
them. Judy thought of a nest, Tim of a cozy rabbit hole, Uncle Felix
had the amazing impression that there were wild flowers growing in his
heart, or that a flock of robins had hopped in and began to sing.
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