falling of a shadow would have made a sound.

David was right sure of that. There was such mystery, such an
unwonted sense of unreality a-quiver in this silence, that he
wanted, very much, to learn what it was all about. Then, ever and
ever so cautiously, he slipped down off the bed. His dimpled toes
went patting daintily across the polished floor, and presently he
had stolen forth upon a great adventure. His eyes narrowed; he
winked rapidly; so dazed he was with the sunshine and the
strangeness of a world that had never looked like this before.

He had found out where summer is. It was here in Mother's garden,
and you knew it was, for you could feel it in the stillness, and
you could see it in the sleepiness of blossoms that drowsed and
drooped and hung their lazy heads in the languishing sweetness of
good air and golden sunshine. It was all very strange and very
dear to David. The sky had never before been so blue, and never
so big nor deep nor cool, and the ground was pleasantly warm and
nice. As the seeded grass touched his ankles he could feel warm
shivers run over his legs, delightful thrills which came to him
this day for the first time. He had found out where summer is.

David paused, and listened, and heard nothing. The whole world
was listening. By and by a honey-burdened bumblebee began talking
to himself; you couldn't quite understand what he said because he
mumbled and bumbled so. David knew he was such a very tired and
sleepy bumblebee that nobody could understand what he was talking
about; and besides, he wasn't nearly so wonderful as a big
butterfly that balanced with blazing wings upon a nodding rose.

He was too heavy for the wee, sweet flower. David was right sure
the butterfly should have rested less heavily there, for pretty
soon the bonnie bloom came all apart and began to fall. One after
another the crimson petals slipped away, and dipped and floated
and came falling and falling down. David was confident that he
could hear the warm whisper of them as they fell, so in tune he
was with the summer and the sunshine, out here in Mother's
garden.

It was good he had stolen forth into the ardent glory of the
noon-time, for if he had not he never would have learned about
the place where the world stops. Only a few of us have found out
about that place. You don't think about it at all, and then,
pretty soon, you _do_ think about it. The way David learned of
it was a new way. He laid him down upon t