"Anything we like," came the sublime reply.
"And do things over and over again—sort of double—and no hurry?" Tim whispered.
"Anything, anywhere, anyhow, and no end to it all," he answered gloriously. "No hurry either!" It was too much to think about all at once, too big to realise. They all sat down again beside Maria, who had not moved an inch in any direction at all. She was a picture of sublime repose.
"We have only got to find it, then climb into it, then sail away," murmured Uncle Felix, with a strange catch in his breath they readily understood.
"When will it begin?" both children asked in the same breath.
"At dawn," he said.
"To-morrow morning?"
"At dawn to-morrow morning."
"But to-morrow's Sunday," they objected.
"To-morrow's—an Extra Day," he said amazingly.