“He laughed. But I thought he looked offended too. His little nose turned up sharper, and he drew the corners of his mouth down from the tips of his ears into his neck. But he didn't look cross, you know.”
“Didn't he say anything?”
“Oh, yes! He said: `That's all nonsense. What you saw was my bundle of dusters. I was going to clean the windows. It takes a good many, you know. Really, what they do say of their superiors down there!' `It's only because they don't know better,' I ventured to say. `Of course, of course,' said the little man. `Nobody ever does know better. Well, I forgive them, and that sets it all right, I hope.' `It's very good of you,' I said. `No!' said he, `it's not in the least good of me. I couldn't be comfortable otherwise.' After this he said nothing for a while, and I laid myself on the floor of his garret, and stared up and around at the great blue beautifulness. I had forgotten him almost, when at last he said: `Ain't you done yet?' `Done what?' I asked. `Done saying your prayers,' says he. 'I wasn't saying my prayers,' I answered. `Oh, yes, you were,' said he, `though you didn't know it! And now I must show you something else.'
“He took my hand and led me down the stair again, and through a narrow passage, and through another, and another, and another. I don't know how there could be room for so many passages in such a little house. The heart of it must be ever so much farther from the sides than they are from each other. How could it have an inside that was so independent of its outside? There's the point. It was funny—wasn't it, Diamond?”
“No,” said Diamond. He was going to say that that was very much the sort of thing at the back of the north wind; but he checked himself and only added, “All right. I don't see it. I don't see why the inside should depend on the outside. It ain't so with the crabs. They creep out of their outsides and make new ones. Mr. Raymond told me so.”
“I don't see what that has got to do with it,” said Nanny.
“Then go on with your story, please,” said Diamond. “What did you come to, after going through all those winding passages into the heart of the moon?”
“I didn't say they were winding passages. I said they were long and narrow. They didn't wind. They went by corners.”
“That's worth knowing,” remarked Diamond. “For who knows how soon he may have to go there? But the main thing is, what did you come to at last?”
“We came to a small box against the wall of a tiny room. The little man told me to put my ear against it. I did so, and heard a noise something like the purring of a cat, only not so loud, and much sweeter. `What is it?' I asked. `Don't you know the sound?' returned the little man. `No,' I answered. `Don't you know the sound of bees?' he said. I had never heard bees, and could not know the sound of them. `Those are my lady's bees,' he went on. I had heard that bees gather honey from the flowers. `But where are the flowers for them?' I asked. `My lady's bees gather their honey from the sun and the stars,' said the little man. `Do let me see them,' I said. `No. I daren't do that,' he answered. `I have no business with them. I don't understand them. Besides, they are so bright that if one were to fly into your eye, it would blind you altogether.' `Then you have seen them?' `Oh, yes! Once or twice, I think. But I don't quite know: they are so very bright—like buttons of lightning. Now I've showed you all I can to-night, and we'll go back to the room.' I followed him, and he made me sit down under a lamp that hung from the roof, and gave me some bread and honey.