"There, there! You needn't cry so much about it. You're not killed yet——though if you were, you couldn't cry, you know, and so it's a general rule against crying, my dear! And how did you come to tumble over? But I can see well enough how it was——I needn't ask you that——walking over sand-pits with your chin in the air, as usual. Of course if you go among sand-pits like that, you must expect to tumble. You should look."
The Beetle murmured something that sounded like "I did look," and Sylvie went on again.
"But I know you didn't! You never do! You always walk with your chin up——you're so dreadfully conceited. Well, let's see how many legs are broken this time. Why, none of them, I declare! And what's the good of having six legs, my dear, if you can only kick them all about in the air when you tumble? Legs are meant to walk with, you know. Now don't begin putting out your wings yet; I've more to say. Go to the frog that lives behind that buttercup——give him my compliments——Sylvie's compliments——can you say 'compliments'?"
