“Fancy you not knowing that!” said Wag. “I'll tell him you'll come.” And he was out of the window. As usual, I had recourse to Slim.
“Why, you did put some on your chest, didn't you?” was Slim's question.
“Yes, but nothing came of it.”
“Well, I believe you can go pretty well anywhere with that, if you think you can.”
“Can I fly, then?”
“No, I should say not; I mean, if you couldn't fly before, you can't now.”
“How do you fly? I don't see any wings.”
“No, we never have wings, and I'm rather glad we don't; the things that have them are always going wrong somehow. We just work it in the proper way with our backs, and there you are; like this.” He made a slight movement of his shoulders, and was standing in the air an inch off the table. “You never tried that, I suppose?” he went on.
“No,” I said, “only in dreams,” which evidently meant nothing to him. “Well now,” I said, “do you tell me that if I went to Wag's house now, I could get inside it? Look at the size I am!”
“It doesn't look as if you could,” he agreed, “but my father said just the same as Wag's father about it.”