He forgot I was inside his ear and that he carried me with him. But I can tell you I had given him something to think of and that was what he needed. This way of feeling that nothing in the world but a Lion has a right to be comfortable—just because you happen to be a Lion yourself—is too silly for anything.
I flew outside his ear and boxed it a little.
"Come!" I said. "Crying won't do you any good. Are you really lonely—really—really—really so that it gives you a hollow feeling?"
He sat up and shook his tears away so that they splashed all about— something like rain.
"Yes," he answered, "to tell the truth I am—I do like Society. I want friends and neighbors—and I don't only want them for dessert, I am a sociable Lion and am affectionate in my nature—and clinging. And people run as fast as they can the moment they hear my voice." And he quite choked with the lump in his throat.
"Well," I snapped, "what else do you expect?" That overcame him and he broke into another sob. "I expect kindness," he said, "and invitations to afternoon teas—and g–g–arden parties——"
"Well you won't get them," I interrupted, "If you don't change your ways. If you eat afternoon teas and garden parties as though they were lettuce sandwiches, you can't expect to be invited to them. So you may as well go back to the desert or the jungle and live with Lions and give up Society altogether."
"But ever since I was a little tiny Lion—a tiny, tiny one—I have wanted to get into Society. I will change—I will! Just tell me what to do. And do sit on my ear and talk down it and stroke it. It feels so comfortable and friendly."
You see he had forgotten that he had meant to chew me up. So I began to give him advice.