"Or p'r'aps it's _somebody_, d'you think?" Tim shrugged his shoulders carefully, conscious of insecurity within. "I shouldn't be surprised, would you?" Judy insisted. Of course she knew as much as he did, but she wanted to make him say something definite. "It's both," he said grandly. "Things like this always come together." "Yes, but it's _quite_ new. It's never happened before." He looked sideways at her with the pity of superior knowledge. "How could it?" So great was his private information that he almost added "stupid." But he kept back the word for later. He repeated instead: "However could it?" "Well, but--" she began. "Don't you see, it's what Daddy always told us," he reminded her with an air. And instantly, with overwhelming certainty, those Wonder Sentences of their father's, first spoken years ago, crashed in upon their minds: Some day; a day is coming; a day will come. Tim's assurance hurt her vanity a little, for it was only fair that she should know something too, however little. But the force of the discovery at once obliterated all lesser personal emotions. "Tim!" she gasped, overcome with admiration. "Is it really _that_?" Tim never forgot that moment of proud ascendancy. He felt like a king or something. "Look out," he whispered quickly. "You'll spoil it all if _he_ knows we've guessed." And he nodded his head towards Uncle Felix in his wicker-chair. "It's Maria's adventure, too, remember." Judy smiled and flushed a little. "He's not listening," she whispered back, ignoring Maria's claim. She was not quite so stupid as her brother thought her. "But how on earth did you know? It's too wonderful!" She flung the hair out of her eyes and wriggled away some of her suppressed excitement on the grass. Tim held his breath in agony while he watched her. But the smoke from his Uncle's pipe rose steadily into the sunny air, and his face was hidden by a paper that he held. The moment of danger passed. The boy leaned over towards his sister's ear. "Where it comes _from_," he whispered, "is what I want to know," and straightened up again with the air of having delivered an ultimatum that no girl could ever possibly reply to. "_From?_" she repeated. She seemed a little disappointed. "D'you mean that may stop it coming?" "Of course not," he said contemptuously. "But everything must come from somewhere, mustn't it?" Judy stared at him speechless, while he surveyed her with an air of calm omnipotence. To ask a thing no one could answer was the same as knowing the answer oneself. "Mustn't it?" he repeated with triumph.