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Blackwood, Algernon, 1869-1951

"The Extra Day"

They felt a little ashamed of
themselves for being so obtuse, for now that they looked closer they
saw that the shell was certainly very beautiful. "Common indeed!" he
muttered again. "Why, you don't know a sign when it's straight before
your noses!"
Judy pulled the fingers apart to make it roll towards her; she felt it
all over, stroking the smooth beauty of its delicate curves. It was
exquisitely tinted. It shone and glistened in the morning sunlight.
She put it against her ear and listened. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "It _is_
singing," as the murmur of the wind explored its hollow windings.
"That's the Ganges," explained Stumper in a softer voice. "The waves
of the Ganges breaking on the yellow sands of India. Wind in the
jungle too." His face looked happy as he watched her; his explosions
never lasted long.
She passed it over to her brother, who crammed it against his ear and
listened with incredible grimaces as though it hurt him. "I can hear
the tigers' footsteps," he declared, screwing up his eyes, "and birds
of paradise and all sorts of things." He handed it on reluctantly to
his uncle, who listened so deeply in his turn that he had to shut both
eyes.


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