The Tramp combed his splendid beard, as if he hoped to find more
feathers in it.
"This morning, wasn't it?" he asked gently, "very early?"
They reflected a moment, but the reflection did not help them much.
"Ages and ages ago," they answered. "So long that we've forgotten
rather--"
"Forgotten what he looks like. That's it. Same trouble here," and he
tapped his breast. "We're all together, doing the same old thing. The
whole world's doing it. It's the only thing to do." And he looked so
wise and knowing that their wonder increased to a kind of climax; they
were tapping their own breasts before they knew it.
"Doing it everywhere," he went on, weighing his speech as usual; "only
some don't know they're doing it." He looked significantly into their
shining eyes, then finished with a note of triumph in his voice. "We
do!"
"Hooray!" cried Tim. "We can all start looking together now."
"Maybe," agreed the wanderer, very sweetly for a tramp, they thought.
They glanced at their Uncle first for his approval; the Tramp glanced
at him too; his face was flushed and happy, the eyes very bright. But
there was an air of bewilderment about him too.
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