"We can fly--" She darted after him.
"Among the imprisoned hours as we choose," boomed the voice of Uncle
Felix, as he followed, rolling in behind her.
"We can play," growled Stumper, hobbling next in the line. "_My_ life
has just begun."
Their Leader waited till they all came up with him. They caught him
up, gathering about him like things that settled on a sunny bush. It
almost seemed they were one single person growing from the earth and
air and water. The Tramp glowed there between them like a heart of
burning fire.
"_He_ ought to be with us, too," said Judy, looking back.
"No hurry," replied the Tramp. "Let him be; he's following _his_ sign.
When he's ready, he'll come along. It's a lovely day."
They moved with the rhythm of a flock of happy birds across the field
of yellow flowers, singing in chorus something or other about an
"extra day." A hundred years flowed over them, or else a single
instant. It mattered not. They took no heed, at any rate. It was so
enormous that they lost themselves, and yet so tiny that they held it
between a finger and a thumb. The important thing was--that they were
getting warmer.
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