the dark recesses of the body;
pointing out the path of duty; teaching respect for the opinion of the
world, for tradition, decency and order. It is thanks to conscience
that a man is true and a woman modest. Not that Thumbeline could be
called immodest, unless a baby can be so described, or an animal. But
could I be called 'true'? I greatly fear that I could not--in fact, I
know it too well. I meant no harm; I was greatly interested; and
there was always before me the real difficulty of making Mary
understand that something was in the kennel which she couldn't see. It
would have led to great complications, even if I had persuaded her of
the fact. No doubt she would have insisted on my getting rid of
Thumbeline--but how on earth could I have done that if Thumbeline had
not chosen to go? But for all that I know very well that I ought to
have told her, cost what it might. If I had done it I should have
spared myself lifelong regret, and should only have gone without a few
weeks of extraordinary interest which I now see clearly could not have
been good for me, as not being founded upon any revealed Christian
principle, and most certainly were not worth the price I had to pay
for them.

"I learned one more curious fact which I must not forget. Nothing
would induce Thumbeline to touch or pass over anything made of
zinc.[6] I don't know the reason of it; but gardeners will tell you
that the way to keep a plant from slugs is to put a zinc collar round
it. It is due to that I was able to keep her in Bran's run without
difficulty. To have got out she would have had to pass zinc. The wire
was all galvanised.

[Footnote 6: This is a curious thing, unsupported by any other
evidence known to me. I asked Despoina about it, but she would not, or
she did not, answer. She appeared not to understand what zinc was, and
I had none handy.]

"She showed her dislike of it in numerous ways: one was her care to
avoid touching the sides or top of the enclosure when she was at her
gambols. At such times, when she was at her wildest, she was all over
the place, skipping high like a lamb, twisting like a leveret,
wheeling round and round in circles like a young dog, or skimming,
like a swallow on the wing, above ground. But she never made a
mistake; she turned in a moment or flung herself backward if there was
the least risk of contact. When Florrie used to converse with her from
outside, in that curious silent way the two had, it would always