She did not understand what he meant by a whittler of reeds, but she rightly took what he said for a humble affirmative.
“I begin to be frightened at you!” she rejoined, half meaning it. “Who knows what else you may not be!”
“I am little enough of anything,” answered Richard, “but nothing that I do not wish to be more of.”
A short silence followed.
“You have not told me yet why he changed that line!” resumed Barbara.
“Better wait until I can show it you in the book: then you will see at once.”
“Please, go on then. I don't know anything about the poem yet! I don't know why it was written!”
“You like some dreams, though they have no reason in them, don't you?”
“Yes; but then I suppose there is reason in the poem!”
“There is, indeed!” said Richard, and went on.