No, the real grief in his heart was that Lucy, the adored, the wonderful
Lucy, treated his assertions with contempt.

"But, Bim, don't be such a silly baby. You know you can't have seen him.
Nurse was there and a lot of us, and _we_ didn't."

"I did though."

"But, Bim----"

"Can't help it. He used to come lots and lots."

"You _are_ a silly! You're getting too old now----"

"I'm _not_ a silly!"

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not!"

"Oh, well, of course, if you're going to be a naughty baby."

Bim was nearer tears on these occasions than on any other in all his
mortal life. His adoration of Lucy was the foundation-stone of his
existence, and she accepted it with a lofty assumption of indifference;
but very sharply would she have missed it had it been taken from her,
and in long after years she was to look back upon that love of his and
wonder that she could have accepted it so lightly; Bim found in her
gravity and assurance all that he demanded of his elders. Lucy was never
at a loss for an answer to any question, and Bim believed all that she