A lark, hanging like a cross in the blue sky,
overhead, dropped suddenly as though it was a stone, but in the
reflection it rushed up into their faces. It seemed to rise at them
from the pebbly bed of the stream. Both movements seemed one and the
same--both were true--the direction depended upon the point of view.
It startled them and broke the water-spell. For the singing stopped
abruptly too. At the same moment Judy and Tim arrived, their arms full
of flowers, hemlock, ferns, and bulrushes. They were breathless and
exhausted; both talked at once; they had quite forgotten, apparently,
what they had gone to find. Judy had seen a king-fisher, Tim had
discovered tracks of an otter; in the excitement they forgot about the
button-hole. But, somehow, the bird, the animal, and the flowers were
the same thing really--one big simple thing. Only the point of view
was different.
"We've looked simply everywhere!" cried Judy.
"Just look what we found!" Tim echoed.
To Uncle Felix it seemed they said one and the same thing merely--
using _one_ word in many syllables.
"Beautiful!" agreed Stumper, as they emptied their arms at his feet in
wild profusion; "and enough for everybody too!"
Stumper also said the thing they had just said.
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