This didn’t sound very encouraging. “But, perhaps, he isn’t quite awake yet,” thought Girlie, remembering that people are often rather cross if spoken to before they are quite awake. “My name is Girlie,” she said aloud.
“H’m! What a stupid name!” said the Owl. “What does it mean?”
“I’m sure it isn’t stupid,” cried Girlie indignantly; “it’s a very pretty name.”
“It’s a silly name for a Pig,” persisted the Owl.
“But I tell you I’m not a Pig,” said Girlie, getting quite cross.
“Yes, I know you say so,” said the Owl sarcastically; “but I can’t see the difference myself. You can’t perch, you can’t fly, you haven’t feathers, and you don’t like mice. If you’re not a Pig, I should just like to know what you are. Not that it matters in the least, though,” he went on, before Girlie could reply. “And now do leave off talking, for I want to get to sleep again.” And he settled his head down between his shoulders and closed his eyes.
“RAN TO THE GATE AND LOOKED OVER THE TOP.”
He evidently did not wish to continue the conversation, so Girlie scrambled down from the tree and began to walk towards the gates at the farther end of the meadow, gathering some marguerites on her way.
“I wonder what day it is?” she thought. “Let’s see, it was Wednesday afternoon when I first came here; then I had tea (or breakfast—which was it?) at the Crocodile’s; then late dinner at the Wallypug’s; and then it was daylight when I got into the conservatory, so I suppose that must have been Thursday; and now I’ve been to sleep; so this must be Friday. What a short day Thursday must have been, though,” she thought—“about an hour and a half long,” she decided, after thinking it over; and then, hearing a noise in the roadway, she ran to the gate and looked over the top.