She was aided in this representation by her familiarity with the habits of chickens when they try to get down from a high roost.

The resemblance struck her; she would cry aloud to the men-- 'Voici Monsieur Geelby, le poulet qui a peur de descendre!' The fact that at the thought of mimicking Gilby Zilda was roused to an unwarranted glow of excitement showed, had any one been wise enough to see it, that she felt some inward cause of pleasurable excitement at the mention of his name.

A narrow nature cannot see absurdity in what it loves, but Zilda's nature was not narrow.

She had learnt to love little Gilby in a fond, deep, silent way that was her fashion of loving.
He had explained to her the principles of ventilation and why he disliked close waiting-rooms.

Zilda could not make her father learn the lesson, but it bore fruit afterwards when she came into power.