"Visible!" It was not his bulk. Tim was never deliberately rude. Was it the risk of staining that he meant?
"Any one can see you miles away like that."
The other understood instantly. In an adventure everything sees, everything has eyes, everything watches. The world is alive and full of eyes. He hesitated a moment.
"Oh, that's all right," he replied. "To be easily seen is the best way. It disarms curiosity at once. Tell all about yourself and nobody ever thinks anything. It's trying to hide that makes the world suspect you. Keep nothing back and show yourself is the best way to go about unnoticed. I've tried it."
"Ah," exclaimed Tim, in an eager whisper, "same as walking into the strawberry-bed without asking—"
"So my white clothes are just the thing," said the other, avoiding the pit laid for him.
"Of course, yes." Tim still chased the big idea in his mind. "Besides," he added, full of another splendid thought, "like that they won't expect you to do very much. They'll watch you instead of me."
There was confusion in the utterance, but things were rather crowding in upon him, to tell the truth, and imagination leaped ahead upon two trails at once. He looked at his big companion with more approval. "You'll do," he signified, pulling his cap over his eyes, thrusting both hands in his pockets, and slithering rapidly down the bannisters in advance.
"Thanks," said Uncle Felix, following him, three steps at a time, with effort.
In the hall they paused a moment—a question of doors.