_What_ it was they had forgotten--they entirely forgot. Only the marvellous hint remained, and the certainty that it could be found. For, to each of them it seemed, came this fairy reminder, stealing deliciously upon the senses: somewhere, somehow, they had known an experience that had enriched their lives. It had become part of them. It had always been in them, but they had found it now. They felt quite positive about it. They believed. To Tim came messages from the solid earth about him, secrets from creatures that lived in it and knew; Judy, catching a thousand kisses from the air upon her cheeks, divined the mystery of all flying life--that brought the stars within her reach; Maria, possessing all within herself, remained steady and calm at the eternal centre of the circle--a clearing-house for messages from everywhere at once. Asking nothing for herself, she merely wanted to give away, give out. She said "Yes" to all that came her way; and all did come her way. To every one of them, to Stumper and Uncle Felix too, came a great conviction that they had passed nearer, somehow, to an everlasting joy. There was no hurry, life had just begun--seemed singing everywhere about them. There was Unity. "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. They were walking quietly enough. "We're not late, then," Tim remarked. "There's lots of time!" Crossing the field in the direction of the London road a policeman was moving steadily. They saw him stoop and pick a yellow flower as he went. He was off to take charge of the world upon his Sunday beat. He disappeared behind a hedge. The butler and the cook vanished through a side-door into the old Mill House about the same time. In due course, they also arrived at the porch, and Uncle Felix set his burden down. As they scraped their muddy boots and rubbed them on the mat, their backs were turned to the outside world; but Maria, whose boots required no scraping, happened to face it still. As usual she faced in all directions like a circle. "Look," she said. "There's some one coming!" And they saw the figure of a tramp go past the opening of the drive where the London road was just visible. He paused a moment and looked towards the house. He did not come in. He just looked--and waved his hand at them. The next minute he was gone. But not before Maria had returned his wave. "He'll come back," suggested Stumper, as they went inside. "Yes," said Maria. "He's mine--but you can have him too."