“The clams win out,
Without a doubt,
I’ve simply ruined my rep ...
I must fix this,
Or else, I wis,
I’ll have to get some pep.”
This last thought seemed to appeal to him a great deal, even though the rhyme wasn’t very good.
But as he pondered it, he had a more awful thought. How could he act like a blood-thirsty Giant, and go about killing men, when he was the only creature that was anything like a man on the island?
It was a most disturbing idea, and for three days it bothered him. He grew paler, and proportionately thinner. He did not weep into his rhubarb now, but left it strictly alone.