'Cousinenry, do you sleep very tightly at night, please?' Monkey asked
it, but Jimbo stepped up nearer to watch the reply.
'Like a top,' he said, wondering.
Signals he tried vainly to intercept flashed between the pair of them.
'Why do you ask?' as nothing further seemed forthcoming.
'Oh, just to know,' she explained. 'It's all right.'
'Yes, it's quite all right like that,' added Jimbo. And without more
ado they took his arms and pulled him out of the forest.
And Henry Rogers heard something deep, deep down within himself echo
the verdict.
'I think it is all right.'
On the way home there were no puddles, but there were three pairs of
eyes--and the stars were uncommonly thick overhead. The children asked
him almost as many questions as there were clusters of them between
the summits of Boudry and La Tourne. All three went floundering in
that giant Net. It was so different, too, from anything they had been
accustomed to. Their father's stories, answers, explanations, and the
like, were ineffective because they always felt he did not quite
believe them himself even while he gave them. He did not think he
believed them, that is. But Cousin Henry talked of stars and star-
stuff as though he had some in his pocket at the moment. And, of
course, he had. For otherwise they would not have listened.
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