"Up above the pond there is light," he said. "I know that, and there is some strange thing—tall, and coloured like—like——" He couldn't think what. He had only pond grass and pond creatures to compare it to. "Like——" A little fish swam slowly past him, and, as it turned, the long light, sifting through the water from the sunset, caught colours on its body. "Like that!" said the grubbiest grub. The fish was swaying slowly. Then it saw the grubbiest grub. "Good evening," said the sparkling fish; "and isn't there a party?" "To be sure," answered the grubbiest grub, "but you see I'm not invited." The sparkling fish looked again. "Why," she said, "I thought you belonged to that set of newts and turtles, and the better class of pond frogs. Anyway, why aren't you invited?" "I'm far too grubby," said the grubbiest grub; "didn't you know?" The little silver fish swam slowly around the grub. "I think you belong above," she said at last; "don't you ever want to go up there?" "I have dreamed of a thing gleaming like—like——" "Rainbows," said the shining fish. "Rainbows," repeated the grubbiest grub, "and I have wanted so to find one. But I never could tell anyone. The newt would have died laughing." "So you're afraid of being laughed at!" said the fish. "I think you _do_ belong to the turtle set." And she swam away. Suddenly something seemed to sting and burn into the heart of the grubby grub. The look the silver fish had given him was worse than the laughter of any number of newts. "I _will_ go and find the thing I dreamed," he said. The grubbiest grub started slowly up a mass of tangled roots and thence on to a long, thin stem. The wave that rippled round the stem saw the grub coming. "You don't belong here," he said. "Please," entreated the grub, and his poor grubby face looked so sad that the wave paused a moment before he brushed him off. "Well—what do you want here?" asked the wave. "We can't have grubs eating out our lily hearts, you know." The grub took a deep breath, and clung on tightly to the lily stem. He was terribly afraid of being laughed at, but he thought of the silver fish and the pain that was worse than any laughter. "I don't want to eat your lily's heart," he said; "I'm only looking for a thing I—dreamed." Strange, the wave didn't laugh. He only looked more closely at the grubby grub. "Oh, you're _that_ kind," he said. "Sure enough. Well, go along. Take the first turning by the moss roots, and good luck to you." The grubbiest grub went on. He found moving upward easier as he grew more used to it. At the place where the moss roots clung most closely to the lily stem, he turned off, then along the moss roots to the edge of the pond, and on up to a broad shaft of green pointing still higher. The grubbiest grub paused. He was very, very tired, and everything was new and strange to him. He had never breathed the air before, nor seen the stars.