`` Why not ? '' said the Story Girl , with a flash of her eyes . `` Indeed I shall . I 'll tell stories as long as I 've a tongue to talk with , or any one to listen . '' Ay , doubtless . That dauntless spirit would soar triumphantly above the wreck of matter and the crash of worlds , taking with it all its own wild sweetness and daring . Even the young-eyed cherubim , choiring on meadows of asphodel , might cease their harping for a time to listen to a tale of the vanished earth , told by that golden tongue . Some vague thought of this was in our minds as we looked at her ; and somehow it comforted us . Not even the Judgment was so greatly to be feared if after it we were the SAME , our own precious little identities unchanged . `` It must be getting handy two , '' said Cecily . `` It seems as if we 'd been waiting here for ever so much longer than an hour . '' Conversation languished . We watched and waited nervously . The moments dragged by , each seeming an hour . Would two o'clock never come and end the suspense ? We all became very tense . Even Peter had to stop reading . Any unaccustomed sound or sight in the world about us struck on our taut senses like the trump of doom . A cloud passed over the sun and as the sudden shadow swept across the orchard we turned pale and trembled . A wagon rumbling over a plank bridge in the hollow made Sara Ray start up with a shriek .
The slamming XXXXX a barn door over at Uncle Roger 's caused the cold perspiration to break out on our faces .
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