They stood and watched the spade; it went in with a crunching sound; it came out slowly with a sort of "pouf," and a load of rich, black earth slid off it into the world of sunshine. It went in again, it came out again; the rhythm of the movement caught them. How long they watched it no one knew, and no one cared to know: it might have been a moment, it may have been a year or two; so utterly had hurry vanished out of life it seemed to them they stood and watched for ever...when they became aware of a curious sensation, as though they felt the whole earth turning with them. They were moving, surely. Something to which they belonged, of which they formed a part--was moving. A windy voice was singing just in front of them. They looked up. The words were inaudible, but they knew it was a bit of the same old song that every one seemed singing everywhere as though the Day itself were singing. The Tramp was going on. "Hark!" said Tim. "The birds are singing. Let's go on and look." "The world is wild with laughter," Judy cried, snatching the words from the air about her. "We can fly--" She darted after him. "Among the imprisoned hours as we choose," boomed the voice of Uncle Felix, as he followed, rolling in behind her. "We can play," growled Stumper, hobbling next in the line. "_My_ life has just begun." Their Leader waited till they all came up with him. They caught him up, gathering about him like things that settled on a sunny bush. It almost seemed they were one single person growing from the earth and air and water. The Tramp glowed there between them like a heart of burning fire. "_He_ ought to be with us, too," said Judy, looking back. "No hurry," replied the Tramp. "Let him be; he's following _his_ sign. When he's ready, he'll come along. It's a lovely day." They moved with the rhythm of a flock of happy birds across the field of yellow flowers, singing in chorus something or other about an "extra day." A hundred years flowed over them, or else a single instant. It mattered not. They took no heed, at any rate. It was so enormous that they lost themselves, and yet so tiny that they held it between a finger and a thumb. The important thing was--that they were getting warmer. Then Judy suddenly nudged Tim, and Tim nudged Uncle Felix, and Uncle Felix dug his elbow into Come-Back Stumper, and Stumper somehow or other caught the attention of the Tramp--a sort of panting sound, half-whistle and half-gasp. They paused and looked behind them. "He's ready," remarked their Leader, with a laughing chuckle in his beard. "He's coming on!" WEEDEN, sure enough, had quietly shouldered his shovel and empty sack, and was making after them, singing as he came. Judy was on the point of saying to her brother, "Good thing Aunt Emily isn't here!" when she caught a look in his eyes that stopped her dead. AUNT EMILY FINDS--HERSELF VIII "My dear!" he exclaimed in his tone of big discovery.