No living being can
lie on the edge of a big pine forest when twilight brings the darkness
without the feeling that everything becomes too wonderful for words.
The children as ever fed his fantasy, while he thought he did it all
himself. Dusk wore a shroud to entangle the too eager stars, and make
them stay.
'I never noticed it before,' murmured Monkey against his coat sleeve.
'Does it happen every night like this?'
'You only see it if you look very closely,' was the low reply. 'You
must think hard, very hard. The more you think, the more you'll see.'
'But really,' asked Jimbo, 'it's only--_crepuscule, comme ca,_ isn't
it?' And his fingers tightened on his leader's hand.
'Dusk, yes,' answered Cousin Henry softly, 'only dusk. But people
everywhere are watching it like ourselves, and thinking feather
thoughts. You can see the froth of stars flung up over the crest of
Night. People are watching it from windows and fields and country
roads everywhere, wondering what makes it so beautiful. It brings
yearnings and long, long desires. Only a few like ourselves can see
the lines of scaffolding, but everybody who thinks about it, and loves
it, makes it more real for others to see, too. Daddy's probably
watching it too from his window.'
'I wonder if Jinny ever sees it,' Monkey asked herself.
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