She looked like a lily growing, nay rushing, upwards to the sun.
They followed the direction of her outstretched arms and hands. But it
was Tim who spoke first. He did not doubt as they did:
"Oh, Judy, where?" he cried out passionately. "Show me! Show me!"
The child raised herself even higher, stretching her toes and arms and
hands; her fingers lengthened; she panted; she made a tremendous
effort.
"There!" she said, without looking down. Her face was towards the sky,
her throat stretched till the muscles showed and her hair fell
backwards in a stream.
Then, following the direction of her eyes and pointing fingers, the
others saw for the first time what Judy saw--a small wild rose hung
shining in the air, dangling at the end of a little bending branch.
The bush grew out of the rubbish-heap, clambering up the wall. No one
had noticed it before. At the end of the branch hung this single
shining blossom, swinging a little in the wind. But it was out of
reach--just a shade too high for her eager fingers to take hold of it.
Beyond it grew the colony of wall-flowers, also in the curious light
that seemed the last glory of the fading day.
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