But there was no hurry.
"I've--seen him," he said with feeling, "seen him--once or twice. My
life's thick with memories--"
"Seen him!" sprang from three mouths simultaneously.
"Once or twice, I said." He paused and sighed. Wind stirred the rose
trees just behind him. He went on murmuring in a lower tone; and as he
spoke a sense of exquisite new beauty stole across the old-world
garden. "It was--in the morning--very early," he said below his
breath.
"At dawn!" Uncle Felix whispered.
"When the birds begin," from Judy very softly.
"To sing," Tim added, a single shiver of joy running through all three
of them at once. The enchantment of their own dim memories of the
dawn--of a robin, of swallows, and of an up-and-under bird flashed
magically back.
The Tramp nodded his great head slowly; he bowed it to the sunlight,
as it were. There was a great light flaming in his eyes. He seemed to
give out heat.
"Just seen him--and no more," he went on marvellously, as though
speaking of a wonderful secret of his own. "Seen him a-stealing past
me--in the dawn. Just looked at me--and went--went back again behind
the rushing minutes!"
"Was it long ago? How long?" asked Judy with eager impatience
impossible to suppress.
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