But all her puzzling was no good, Though staring up the bank she stood, Which, as she sunk, grew higher; Until, invaded with dismay, Lest baby's patience should give way, She frees her from the mire.

In short, Puzzle is an Atheist as much as his Parts will give him leave.

However, with all Monsieur's prattle, he never dropped a word about the man he had been before he went away; and the great hair-trunk puzzle was still the same puzzle, growing greater every day.