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Updated: May 31, 2025
He glared into the blue eyes of Maria, sternly. "It's growing," he whispered horribly, "it's growing." There was a pause in which credulity shook hands with faith. Belief was in the air. If doubt did whisper, "Let me see, please," it was too low to be quite audible. Come-Back Stumper was surrounded by an atmosphere of black-edged glory suddenly; he wore a halo; his feet were dipped in mystery.
"I thought it was a stumper," he remarked with evident satisfaction. "The fact is, I'm going to Canada and mother told me you had a brother or something out there." "A brother, not a something," said Nora, with a smile. "And she said, perhaps you wouldn't mind giving me a letter to him." "I will with pleasure. But I'm afraid he won't be much use to you.
"It's a lovely day," remarked Uncle Felix presently. "I want my luncheon." He picked up Maria and moved on across the bridge. "It's the Extra Day," Maria whispered in his ear. "It's my adventure, but you all can have it." The others followed with Come-Back Stumper, and in the lane they saw the figures of Weeden, Thompson and Mrs. Horton in front of them, coming home from church.
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!"
They hoped their contributions had been noticed. "You'll come back with us?" suggested Uncle Felix. And Stumper, growling his acceptance, walked home to lunch with them in the old Mill House. In his short black coat, trousers of shepherd's plaid, and knotted white tie bearing a neat horseshoe pin, he looked smart yet soldierly. Tim apologised for his moist finger and the threepenny bit.
"Aw thank you, my dear," he said, fastening the forget-me-not into his Sunday coat, "but I ought not to take it all. It's yours." The voice had a quiet, almost distant sound in it. "Ours," Maria murmured to herself, addressing the faces in the water. She took the fragment Stumper handed back to her.
But, while Tim ran, Stumper and Uncle Felix moved more slowly. For something in them hesitated; their attitudes betrayed them; there was a certain confusion in the minds of the older two, a touch of doubt. The contrast between the surrounding twilight and the brilliant patch of glory in which Judy stood bewildered them.
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."
Led by the Tramp, Uncle Felix and Stumper following slowly in the rear, they moved forward in a group. Weeden might have seen something. They would ask him. John WEEDEN the children always saw his surname in capitals was probably the most competent Head Gardener of his age, or of any other age: he supplied the household with fruit and vegetables without grumbling or making excuses.
"The easier you go the less chance there is," maintained Judy. She said this straight into the paper that screened her uncle's face without the smallest result of any kind whatsoever. Then Tim recalled something that Colonel Stumper had said once, and let fly with it, aiming his voice beneath the paper's edge.
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