But it was the rose that
Judy wanted. And from somewhere near it came the sweet singing of the
unseen bird.
"Too high," whispered Uncle Felix, watching in amazement. "You can't
manage it. You'll crick your back! oh--oh!" The sight of that blossom
drew his heart out.
"Impossible," growled Stumper, yet wondering why he said it. "It's out
of reach."
"Go it!" cried Tim. "You'll have it in a second. Half an inch more!
There--you touched it that time!"
For an interval no one could measure they watched her spellbound; in
each of them stirred the similar instinct--that they could reach it,
but that she could not. A deep, secret desire hid in all of them to
pick that gleaming wild rose that swung above them in the air. And,
meanwhile, the darkness deepened perceptibly, only Judy and the
blossom framed still in shining light.
Then, suddenly, the child's voice broke forth again like a burst of
music.
"I've got it! I've got it!"
There was a breathless pause. Her finger did not stretch a fraction of
an inch--but the rose was nearer. For the bird that still sang
invisibly had fluttered into view and perched itself deliberately upon
the prickly branch.
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