Stranger who was coming into their slow, steady lives. They fell to
dreaming of the surprising pageant they would blazon forth upon the
world a little later. And while they dreamed, the wind of night passed
moaning through their leafless branches, and Time flew noiselessly
above the turning Earth.

Meanwhile, inside the old Mill House, the servants lit the lamps and
drew the blinds and curtains. Behind the closing eyelids, however,
like dream-chambers within a busy skull, there were rooms of various
shapes and kinds, and in one of these on the ground-floor, called
Daddy's Study, the three children stood, expectant and a little shy,
waiting for something desirable to happen. In common with all other
living things, they shared this enticing feeling--that Something
Wonderful was going to happen. To be without this feeling, of course,
is to be not alive; but, once alive, it cannot be escaped. At death it
asserts itself most strongly of all--Something Too Wonderful is going
to happen. For to die is quite different from being not alive. This
feeling is the proof of eternal life--once alive, alive for ever. To
live is to feel this yearning, huge expectancy.

Daddy had taught them this, though, of course, they knew it
instinctively already. And any moment now the door would open and his
figure, familiar, yet each time more wonderful, would cross the
threshold, close the door behind him, and ... something desirable
would happen.

"I wish he'd hurry," said Tim impatiently. "There won't be any time
left." And he glanced at the cruel clock that stopped all their
pleasure but never stopped itself. "The motor got here hours ago. He
can't STILL be having tea." Judy, her brown hair in disorder, her belt