One word was quite enough for the little fellow, and he went on
merrily. "Well, and so he didn't want the other caterpillar to see the
moth's wing, oo know--so what must he do but try to carry it with all
his left legs, and he tried to walk on the other set. Of course he
toppled over after that."
"After what?" I said, catching at the last word, for, to tell the
truth, I hadn't been attending much.
"He toppled over," Bruno repeated, very gravely, "and if oo ever saw a
caterpillar topple over, oo'd know it's a welly serious thing, and not
sit grinning like that--and I sha'n't tell oo no more!"
"Indeed and indeed, Bruno, I didn't mean to grin. See, I'm quite grave
again now."
But Bruno only folded his arms, and said "Don't tell me.
I see a little twinkle in one of oor eyes--just like the moon."
"Why do you think I'm like the moon, Bruno?" I asked.
"Oor face is large and round like the moon," Bruno answered, looking at
me thoughtfully. "It doosn't shine quite so bright--but it's more
cleaner."
I couldn't help smiling at this. "You know I sometimes wash my face,
Bruno. The moon never does that."
"Oh, doosn't she though!" cried Bruno; and he leant forwards and added
in a solemn whisper, "The moon's face gets dirtier and dirtier every
night, till it's black all across. And then, when it's dirty all
over--so--" (he passed his hand across his own rosy cheeks as he spoke)
"then she washes it.
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