They belong to the story somewhere if only I can find them and fit
them in. Starlight binds all together as thought and sympathy bind
minds....'
Rogers thought hard about them. Instantly his cousin vanished.
'Thank you,' ran a faint whisper among the pillars; 'I'm on their
trail again now. I must go up again. I can see better from the top,'
and the voice grew fainter and higher and further off with each word
till it died away completely into silence. Daddy went chasing his
inspiration through the scaffolding of reverie and dream.
'We did something for him the other night after all, then,' thought
Rogers with delight.
'Of course,' dropped down a wee, faint answer from above, as the
author heard him thinking; 'you did a lot. I'm partly out at last.
This is where all the Patterns hide. Awake, I only get their dim
reflections, broken and distorted. This is reality, not that. Ha, ha!
If only I can get it through, my lovely, beautiful pattern--'
'You will, you will,' cried the other, as the voice went fluttering
through space. 'Ask the children. Jimbo and Monkey are up there
somewhere. They're the safest guides.'
Rogers gave a gulp and found that he was coughing. His feet were cold.
A shudder ran across the feathery structure, making it tremble from
the foundations to the forest of spires overhead.
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