"I think you belong above," she said at last; "don't you ever want to go up there?"
"I have dreamed of a thing gleaming like—like——"
"Rainbows," said the shining fish.
"Rainbows," repeated the grubbiest grub, "and I have wanted so to find one. But I never could tell anyone. The newt would have died laughing."
"So you're afraid of being laughed at!" said the fish. "I think you do belong to the turtle set." And she swam away.
Suddenly something seemed to sting and burn into the heart of the grubby grub. The look the silver fish had given him was worse than the laughter of any number of newts. "I will go and find the thing I dreamed," he said.
The grubbiest grub started slowly up a mass of tangled roots and thence on to a long, thin stem. The wave that rippled round the stem saw the grub coming. "You don't belong here," he said.
"Please," entreated the grub, and his poor grubby face looked so sad that the wave paused a moment before he brushed him off.
"Well—what do you want here?" asked the wave. "We can't have grubs eating out our lily hearts, you know."
The grub took a deep breath, and clung on tightly to the lily stem. He was terribly afraid of being laughed at, but he thought of the silver fish and the pain that was worse than any laughter. "I don't want to eat your lily's heart," he said; "I'm only looking for a thing I—dreamed."