Tim, sitting beside her on the grass, felt the exquisite mystery of it too. It was marvellous that any one could vanish in such a way. But he hesitated too. He felt uncertain about something. His thoughts flew off to that strange wood he loved to play in. He remembered the warning: "Beware the centre, if you enter; For once you're there, you disappear!" But this explanation did not appeal to him as likely now. He stared at Judy and his uncle. Some one had touched him, making him warm and happy. He remembered that distinctly. He had caught a glimpse—though a glimpse too marvellous to be seen for long, even to be remembered properly. "But there's no good looking unless we know where to look," he remarked. "Is there?"
"He's just gone out like a candle," whispered Judy.
"Extror'nary," declared her brother, hugging the excitement that thrilled his heart. "But he can't be really lost. I'm sure of that!"
And a great hush fell upon them all. Some one, it seemed, was listening; some one was watching; some one was waiting for them to move.
"Uncle?" they said in the same breath together, then hung upon his answer.
This authority hesitated a moment, looking about him expectantly as though for help.
"I think," he stated shyly, "I think—he's—hiding."
Nothing more wonderful ever fell from grown-up lips. They had heard it said before—but only said. Now they realised it.
"Hiding!" They stood up; they could see further that way. But they waited for more detail before showing their last approval.
"Out here," he added.