They were silent for a moment. Then Judy asked, still more timidly: "I say, Tim?" "Well." "What does he really look like? I can't remember quite. I mean--shall we recognise him?" Tim stared at her. "My dear!" he gasped, as though the question almost shocked him. "Why, he touched me--on the head! I felt it!" Judy laughed softly; it was only that she wanted to remind herself of something too precious to be forgotten. "_I_ kissed him!" she whispered, a hint of triumph in her voice and eyes. They stood staring at one another for a little while, weighing the proofs thus given; then Tim broke the silence with a question of his own. It was the result of this interval of reflection. It was an unexpected sort of question: "Do you know what it is we want?" he asked. "I do," he added hurriedly, lest she should answer first. "What?" she said, seeing from his tone and manner that it was important. "We shall never, never find him this way," he said decisively. "What?" she repeated with impatience. Tim lowered his voice. "What we want," he said with the emphasis of true conviction, "is--a Leader." Judy repeated the word after him immediately; it was obvious; why hadn't she thought of it herself? "Of course," she agreed. "That's it exactly." "We're looking wrong somewhere," her brother added, and they both turned their heads in the direction of Uncle Felix who was still standing on the lawn in a state of bewilderment, examining the treetops. He expected something from the air, it seemed. Perhaps he was looking for rain--he loved water so. But evidently he was not a proper leader; he was even more bewildered than themselves; he, too, was looking wrong somewhere, somehow. They needed some one to show them how and where to look. Instinctively they felt their uncle was no better at this mighty game than they were. If only somebody who knew and understood--a leader--would turn up! And it was just then that Judy clutched her brother by the arm and said in a startled whisper, "Hark!" They harked. Through the hum of leaves and insects that filled the air this sweet June morning they heard another sound--a voice that reached them even here beneath the dense roof of shrubbery. They heard words distinctly, though from far away, rising, falling, floating across the lawn as though some one as yet invisible were singing to himself.