"No, of course I don't."
"Now suppose a lot of people should come along and see it and say:—'Yes, that's true, five and five are eleven,' what would you think then?"
Twinny studied again. "Well," she said, "I suppose I'd be sort of worried at first; and then I'd see that I'd got to prove it, and I'd hold up my fingers and count, just like a little young one, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten;—and then I'd know I wasn't mistaken, and it wouldn't make any difference what any one said."
"And the figures you could see wouldn't make any difference?" and Bess pointed to the "5+5 =11," printed on the sand.
Twinny whipped a little switch across them, blotting them out. "They wouldn't matter that to me," she said; "because I'd know better!"
"Then, do you see what I mean about understanding the truth about a thing?"
"Yes," said Twinny. "Then of course the first thing is to find out what the truth is. Is that it?"
"Yes," said Bess, "first find out what the
