Two strangers meet and bow and separate
without a word, yet each has changed; neither leaves the other quite
as he was before. In the society of children, moreover, one believes
everything in the world--for the moment. Belief is constructive and
creative; it is doubt and cynicism that destroy. In the presence of a
child these latter are impossible. Was this the explanation of the
effect he produced upon their little circle--the belief and wonder and
joy of Fairyland?
For a moment something of this flashed through Daddy's mind. Mother,
in her way, was aware of something similar. But neither of them spoke
it. The triangular staring was its only evidence. Mother resumed her
knitting. She was not given to impulsive utterance. Her husband once
described her as a solid piece of furniture. She was.
'You see,' said Daddy bravely, as the moment's tension passed, 'my
original idea was simply to treat Bourcelles as an epitome, a
miniature, so to speak, of the big world, while showing how Nature
sweetened and kept it pure as by a kind of alchemy. But that idea has
grown. I have the feeling now that the Bourcelles we know is a mere
shadowy projection cast by a more real Bourcelles behind. It is only
the dream village we know in our waking life. The real one--er--we
know only in sleep.
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