“O, yes, of course I can,” the Child answered. It began to look discouraging.
“And just look at my eyes,” went on Arabella. “Do you see anything queer about them?”
The Child looked. “They’re very bright.”
“Yes,” pursued the other, “that’s because they’re stars, you see. But I could see much better out of them if they were just regular eyes, I think. Don’t you?”
“Of course you could,” said the Child. “Anybody could.”
“I’m glad you think so. It will be a relief to have eyes like other people. If my eyes were once fixed I shouldn’t care so much about my ears.”
“Your ears? What is the matter with them?” demanded the Child.
“You’re queer not to remember,” returned Arabella. “They’re only pink shells and they roar so I can’t hear well half the time. There are other things, too; my mouth, for instance. You made that a lovely ripe red cherry, which is, to say the least, inconvenient and even tempting!”
The Child sighed again. “I wanted to make you beautiful,” she explained apologetically.
“Yes, I know,” Arabella replied; “but I think I’d rather be good than beautiful. It means more.”