Some one was hiding somewhere, waiting, longing to play with them,
expecting to be found.
It may be that intervals went by, those intervals called years and
months; yet no one noticed them, and certainly no one named them. They
knew one feeling only--the joy of endless search. Some one was hiding,
some one was near, and signs lay scattered everywhere. This some one
lay in his wonderful hiding-place and watched their search with
laughter in his eyes. He remained invisible; perhaps they would never
see him actually; but they felt his presence everywhere, in every
object, every tree and flower and stone, in sun and wind, in water and
in earth. The power and loveliness of common things became insistent.
They were aware of them. It seemed they brushed against this shining
presence, pushing for ever against a secret door of exit that led into
the final hiding-place. Eager to play with them, yet more eager still
to be discovered, the wonderful hider kept just beyond their sight and
touch, while covering the playground with endless signs that he was
near enough for them to know for certain he was--there. For among the
four of them there was no heart that doubted.
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