This

feeling is the proof of eternal life—once alive, alive for ever. To

live is to feel this yearning, huge expectancy.

Daddy had taught them this, though, of course, they knew it

instinctively already. And any moment now the door would open and his

figure, familiar, yet each time more wonderful, would cross the

threshold, close the door behind him, and … something desirable

would happen.

“I wish he’d hurry,” said Tim impatiently. “There won’t be any time

left.” And he glanced at the cruel clock that stopped all their

pleasure but never stopped itself. “The motor got here hours ago. He

can’t STILL be having tea.” Judy, her brown hair in disorder, her belt

sagging where it was of little actual use, sighed deeply. But there

was patience and understanding in her big, dark eyes. “He’s in with

Mother doing finances,” she said with resignation. “It’s Saturday.

Let’s sit down and wait.” Then, seeing that Maria already occupied the

big armchair, and sat staring comfortably into the fire, she did not

move. Maria was making a purring, grunting sound of great contentment;

she felt no anxiety of any kind apparently.

But Tim was less particular.

“Alright,” he said, squashing himself down beside Maria, whose

podgy form accommodated itself to the intrusion like a cat, “as long

as Aunt Emily doesn’t catch him on the way and begin explaining.”

“She’s in bed with a headache,” mentioned Judy. “She’s safe

enough.” For it was an established grievance against their mother’s

sister that she was always explaining things. She was a terrible

explainer. She couldn’t move without explaining. She explained

everything in the world. She was a good soul, they knew, but she had

to explain that she was a good soul. They rather dreaded her.

Explanations took time for one thing, and for another they took away

all wonder. In bed with a headache, she was safely accounted for,

explained.

“She thinks we miss her,” reflected Tim. He did not say it; it just

flashed through his mind, with a satisfaction that added vaguely to

his pleasurable anticipation of what was coming. And this satisfaction

increased his energy. “Shove over a bit,” he added aloud to Maria, and

though Maria did not move of her own volition, she was nevertheless

shoved over. The pair of them settled down into the depths of the

chair, but while Maria remained quite satisfied with her new position,

her brother fussed and fidgeted with impatience born of repressed

excitement. “Run out and knock at the door,” he proposed to Judy.

“He’ll never get away from Mother unless we let him KNOW we’re

waiting.”

Judy, kneeling on a chair and trying to make it sea-saw, pulled up

her belt, sprang down, then hesitated.