“Is it?” said the Crocodile. “I’ve never thought about it in that light before; perhaps it is”; and he dried his eyes and began to smile. “Crocodiles,” he said, “are very easily moved to tears. Why, I remember a friend of mine, who lives in the River Nile, once telling me that just because a little black baby, whose mother left it alone on the bank near to where my friend lived, disappeared, he wept bitterly.”
“Where did the baby disappear to?” asked Girlie.
“‘OH! DON’T CRY,’ SAID GIRLIE.”
The Crocodile only winked and said in a curious way, “My friend said it was a most delicious baby,” which didn’t help Girlie to understand in the least what he meant.
While she was still puzzling about it, the Porter came to the door and began ringing a great hand-bell, and every one hurried into the Station and down the steps on to the platform, where a train was waiting for them.
A great scrambling took place to secure seats, and Girlie was just comfortably settling herself in the same carriage with the Wallypug (who beckoned to her from one of the windows), and a family of five Hippopotami, when the Porter came to the door and, after glaring at her for a moment in silence, walked rapidly away.
“He means mischief, your Majesty,” said the Wallypug; “I can tell it by his eye. Here he comes again,” he continued, as the Porter returned, followed by the Station-master.
“There!” he cried, pointing to Girlie scornfully, “that’s it. The Crow says it’s a Pig, and the Doctor-in-law says it’s a Noun without a Case, and I’m bothered if I can tell what it is. If it’s a Pig, it ought to go in the cattle-truck; and, if it’s the other thing, it ought to ride with the Alphabet.”
The Station-master scratched his head thoughtfully and looked much puzzled. “Let’s go and see whether there’s room in the Alphabet’s carriage for her,” he said after a pause; and they both walked off again.