'It's not a story exactly, but a sort of adventure,' he continued, hesitating yet undaunted. 'Star Caverns are places where the unused starlight gathers. There are numbers of them about the world, and one I know of is up here in our mountains,' he pointed through the north wall towards the pine-clad Jura, 'not far from the slopes of Boudry where the forests dip towards the precipices of the Areuse--' The phrase ran oddly through him like an inspiration, or the beginning of a song he once had heard somewhere. 'Ah, beyond le Vallon Vert? I know,' whispered Jimbo, his blue eyes big already with wonder. 'Towards the precipices on the farther side,' came the explanation, 'where there are those little open spaces among the trees.' 'Tell us more exactly, please.' 'Star-rays, you see,' he evaded them, 'are visible in the sky on their way to us, but once they touch the earth they disappear and go out like a candle. Unless a chance puddle, or a pair of eyes happens to be about to catch them, you can't tell where they've gone to. They go really into these Star Caverns.' 'But in a puddle or a pair of eyes they'd be lost just the same,' came the objection. 'On the contrary,' he said; 'changed a little--increased by reflection--but not lost.' There was a pause; the children stared, expectantly. Here was mystery. 'See how they mirror themselves whenever possible,' he went on, 'doubling their light and beauty by giving themselves away! What is a puddle worth until a Star's wee golden face shines out of it? And then--what gold can buy it? And what are your eyes worth until a star has flitted in and made a nest there?' 'Oh, like that, you mean--!' exclaimed Jane Anne, remembering that the wonderful women in the newspaper stories always had 'starry eyes.' 'Like that, yes.' Daddy continued. 'Their light puts sympathy in you, and only sympathy makes you lovely and--and--' He stopped abruptly. He hesitated a moment. He was again most suddenly aware that this strange idea that was born in him came from somewhere else, almost from _some one_ else. It was not his own idea, nor had he captured it completely yet. Like a wandering little inspiration from another mind it seemed passing through him on uncertain, feathery feet. He had suddenly lost it again. Thought wandered. He stared at Jimbo, for Jimbo somehow seemed the channel. The children waited, then talked among themselves. Daddy so often got muddled and inattentive in this way. They were accustomed to it, expected it even. 'I always love being out at night,' said Monkey, her eyes very bright; 'it sort of excites and makes me soft and happy.' 'Excuse me, Daddy, but have you been inside one? What's it like? The Cave, I mean?' Jinny stuck to the point. She had not yet travelled beyond it.