“That’s not long enough,” said Mark.
“It’s not finished,” said Bevis. “How can I finish it when we have only got as far as this? How do I know, you stupid, how far this bay goes into the land? Perhaps there’s another sea round there,” pointing over the field. “Instead of saying silly things, just find out some names, now.”
“What sea is it?” said Mark thoughtfully.
“I can’t tell,” said Bevis. “It is most extraordinary to find a new sea. And such an enormous big one. Why how many days’ journey have we come already?”
“Thirty,” said Mark. “Put it down in the diary, thirty days’ journey. There, that’s right. Now, what sea is it? Is it the Atlantic?”
“No; it’s not the Atlantic, nor the Pacific, nor the South Sea; it’s bigger than all those.”
“It’s much more difficult to find a name than a sea,” said Mark.
“Much,” said Bevis. They stared at each other for awhile. “I know,” said Bevis.
“Well, what is it?” said Mark excitedly, raising himself on his knees to hear the name.
“I know,” said Bevis. “I’ll lie down and shut my eyes, and you take a piece of grass and tickle me; then I can think. I can’t think unless I’m tickled.”