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But what became of little Tom? He slipped away off the rocks into the water, as I said before. But he could not help thinking of little Ellie. He did not remember who she was, but he knew that she was a little girl, though she was a hundred times as big as he. That is not surprising: size has nothing to do with kindred.
A tiny weed may be first cousin to a great tree; and a little dog like Vick knows that Lioness is a dog, too, though she is twenty times larger than herself. So Tom knew that Ellie was a little girl, and thought about her all that day, and longed to have had her to play with; but he had very soon to think of something else.
Bedonebyasyoudid, who reads the news very carefully every morning, and especially the police cases, as you will hear very soon. He was going along the rocks in three-fathom water, watching the pollock catch prawns, and the wrasses nibble barnacles off the rocks, shells and all, when he saw a round cage of green withes, and inside it, looking very much ashamed of himself, sat his friend the lobster, twiddling his horns instead of thumbs.
The lobster felt a little indignant at such a notion, but he was too much depressed in spirits to argue; so he only said—"I can't get out. But the lobster was so stupid and clumsy that he couldn't hit the hole. Like a great many foxhunters, he was very sharp as long as he was in his own country; but as soon as they get out of it, they lose their heads; and so the lobster, so to speak, lost his tail. Tom reached and clawed down the hole after him, till he caught hold of him; and then, as was to be expected, the clumsy lobster pulled him in head foremost.
