Sylvie And Bruno

Excerpt: …at his having so entirely forgotten what a big creature he was talking to. “No, not yet, Bruno,” I said: “we must consider what’’s the right thing to do first. You see we’’ve got quite a business before us.” “Yes, let’’s consider,” said Bruno, putting his thumb into his mouth again, and sitting down upon a dead mouse. “What do you keep that mouse for?” I said. “You should either bury it, or else throw it into the brook.” “Why, it’’s to measure with!” cried Bruno. “How ever would oo do a garden without one? We make each bed three mouses and a half long, and two mouses wide.” I stopped him, as he was dragging it off by the tail to show me how it was used, for I was half afraid the ‘’eerie’’ feeling might go off before we had finished the garden, and in that case I should see no more of him or Sylvie. “I think the best way will be for you to weed the beds, while I sort out these pebbles, ready to mark the walks with.” “That’’s it!” cried Bruno. “And I’’ll tell oo about the caterpillars while we work.” “Ah, let’’s hear about the caterpillars,” I said, as I drew the pebbles together into a heap and began dividing them into colours. And Bruno went on in a low, rapid tone, more as if he were talking to himself. “Yesterday I saw two little caterpillars, when I was sitting by the brook, just where oo go into the wood. They were quite green, and they had yellow eyes, and they didn’’t see me. And one of them had got a moth’’s wing to carry-a great brown moth’’s wing, oo know, all dry, with feathers. So he couldn’’t want it to eat, I should think-perhaps he meant to make a cloak for the winter?” “Perhaps,” I said, for Bruno had twisted up the last word into a sort of question, and was looking at me for an answer. One word was quite enough for the little fellow, and he went on merrily. “Well, and so he didn’’t want the other caterpillar to see the moth’’s wing, oo know-so what must he do but try to carry it with all his left legs, and he tried to walk on the other set. Of…