No one smiled. They were all too much in earnest. Colin s face was not
even crossed by a shadow. He was thinking only of the Magic.
Then I will chant, he said. And he began, looking like a strange boy
spirit. The sun is shining the sun is shining. That is the Magic. The
flowers are growing the roots are stirring. That is the Magic. Being
alive is the Magic being strong is the Magic. The Magic is in me the
Magic is in me. It is in me it is in me. It s in everyone of us. It s
in Ben Weatherstaff s back. Magic! Magic! Come and help!
He said it a great many times not a thousand times but quite a goodly
number. Mary listened entranced. She felt as if it were at once queer
and beautiful and she wanted him to go on and on. Ben Weatherstaff
began to feel soothed into a sort of dream which was quite agreeable.
The humming of the bees in the blossoms mingled with the chanting voice
and drowsily melted into a doze. Dickon sat cross-legged with his
rabbit asleep on his arm and a hand resting on the lamb s back. Soot
had pushed away a squirrel and huddled close to him on his shoulder,
the gray film dropped over his eyes. At last Colin stopped.
Now I am going to walk round the garden, he announced.
Ben Weatherstaff s head had just dropped forward and he lifted it with
a jerk.
You have been asleep, said Colin.
Nowt o th sort, mumbled Ben. Th sermon was good enow but I m
bound to get out afore th collection.
He was not quite awake yet.
You re not in church, said Colin.
Not me, said Ben, straightening himself. Who said I were? I heard
every bit of it. You said th Magic was in my back. Th doctor calls it
rheumatics.
The Rajah waved his hand.
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