if, indeed, there ever were such silly people, which I very much doubt.
Griselda gazed with all her eyes. Then she suddenly gave a little shiver.
"What's the matter?" said the cuckoo. "You have the mantle on—you're not cold?"
"No," said Griselda, "I'm not cold; but somehow, cuckoo, I feel a little frightened. The sea is so strange, and so dreadfully big; and the light is so queer, too. What is the light, cuckoo? It isn't moonlight, is it?"
"Not exactly," said the cuckoo. "You can't both have your cake and eat it, Griselda. Look up at the sky. There's no moon there, is there?"
"No," said Griselda; "but what lots of stars, cuckoo. The light comes from them, I suppose? And where's the sun, cuckoo? Will it be rising soon? It isn't always like this up here, is it?"
"Bless you, no," said, the cuckoo. "There's sun enough, and rather too much, sometimes.
