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THE TALE OF GRANDFATHER MOLE
Sleepy-Time Tales
(Trademark Registered)
by
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
Author of
_Tuck-Me-in Tales_
(Trademark Registered)
THE TALE OF CUFFY BEAR
THE TALE OF FRISKY SQUIRREL
THE TALE OF TOMMY FOX
THE TALE OF FATTY COON
THE TALE OF BILLY WOODCHUCK
THE TALE OF JIMMY RABBIT
THE TALE OF PETER MINK
THE TALE OF SANDY CHIPMUNK
THE TALE OF BROWNIE BEAVER
THE TALE OF PADDY MUSKRAT
THE TALE OF FERDINAND FROG
THE TALE OF DICKIE DEER MOUSE
THE TALE OF TIMOTHY TURTLE
THE TALE OF MAJOR MONKEY
THE TALE OF BENNY BADGER
[Illustration: Grandfather Mole Made a Rush for Mr. Meadow Mouse.
_Frontispiece_--(_Page 85_)]
Sleepy-Time Tales
(Trademark Registered)
THE TALE OF GRANDFATHER MOLE
by
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
Author of
"Tuck-Me-in Tales"
(Trademark Registered)
Illustrated by Harry L. Smith
New York
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers
Made in the United States of America
Copyright, 1920, by
Grosset & Dunlap
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I A QUEER OLD PERSON 1
II WHAT THE CAT CAUGHT 5
III A BREAKFAST LOST 10
IV A NEW WAY OF TAKING A STROLL 15
V JIMMY RABBIT CAN'T WAIT 19
VI A HEARTY EATER 24
VII TWO WORM-EATERS 29
VIII LOSING HIS BEARINGS 34
IX GOOD NEWS FROM BELOW 38
X MRS. ROBIN'S WISH 43
XI SURPRISING GRANDFATHER MOLE 47
XII MR. BLACKBIRD'S ADVICE 52
XIII TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF 56
XIV THE NEW SUNSHADE 61
XV TWO AND A TOADSTOOL 65
XVI GRANDFATHER MOLE'S VISITOR 70
XVII MR. CROW SCOLDS 76
XVIII A TALK WITH MR. MEADOW MOUSE 81
XIX MR. CROW'S APOLOGY 86
XX A SIGN OF RAIN 91
XXI MRS. WREN TRIES TO HELP 96
XXII TWO FAMOUS DIGGERS 102
XXIII SEEING A SAMPLE 107
XXIV FOLLOWING THE PLOUGH 112
XXV STUBBORN AS EVER 116
THE TALE OF GRANDFATHER MOLE
I
A QUEER OLD PERSON
THERE was a queer old person that lived in Farmer Green's garden. Nobody
knew exactly how long he had made his home there because his neighbors
seldom saw him. He might have been in the garden a whole summer before
anybody set eyes on him.
Those that were acquainted with him called him Grandfather Mole. And the
reason why his friends didn't meet him oftener was because he spent
most of his time underground. Grandfather Mole's house was in a mound at
one end of the garden. He had made the house himself, for he was a great
digger. And Mr. Meadow Mouse often remarked that it had more halls than
any other dwelling he had ever seen. He had visited it when Grandfather
Mole was away from home, so he knew what it was like.
Some of those halls that Mr. Meadow Mouse mentioned ran right out
beneath the surface of the garden. Grandfather Mole had dug them for a
certain purpose. Through them he made his way in the darkness, whenever
he was hungry (which was most of the time, for he had a huge appetite!).
And when he took an underground stroll he was almost sure to find a few
angleworms, which furnished most of his meals.
To be sure, he did not despise a grub--if he happened to meet one--nor a
cutworm nor a wire-worm.
The wonder of it was that Grandfather Mole ever found anything to eat,
for the old gentleman was all but blind. The only good Grandfather
Mole's eyes did him was to let him tell darkness from light. They were
so small that his neighbors claimed he hadn't any at all.
Another odd thing about this odd person was his ears. The neighbors said
they couldn't see them, either. But they were in his head, even if they
didn't show. And Grandfather Mole himself sometimes remarked that he
didn't know how he could have burrowed as he did if he had been forever
getting dirt in his eyes and ears. He seemed quite satisfied to be just
as he was.
And he used to say that he didn't know what good eyes were to anyone
whether he was under the ground or on top of it!
Liking to dig as he did, he certainly had nothing to complain about. His
long nose was as good as a drill. And his front legs were just long
enough so that he could reach his large, spade-like feet beyond his nose
and throw the dirt back. His fur lay in one direction as easily as in
another, never troubling him in the least when he was boring his way
through the dry, loose soil of Farmer Green's garden.
So in spite of what might seem great drawbacks to others, Grandfather
Mole was contented with his lot. The only thing he was ever known to
grumble about was the scarcity of angleworms.
II
WHAT THE CAT CAUGHT
EVERYBODY knew the cat at Farmer Green's to be a great hunter. She had
long since disposed of the last mouse that was so foolish as to venture
inside her home. And being very big, and not at all timid, she had made
such a name for herself in the neighborhood that even the rats looked on
her as a monster to be avoided.
Now it often happened that this capable cat turned up her nose at the
saucer of milk that Farmer Green's wife set before her with great
regularity. And off she would go--sometimes to the barn, sometimes to
the fields--to see what she could find that would furnish her both food
and a frolic. For she thought it great sport to capture some small
creature.
She was crossing the garden early one morning, on her way to the meadow,
when she came upon Grandfather Mole. And having no pity for him--in
spite of his blindness--she thought there was no sense in going any
further for her breakfast. She would enjoy it right there in the garden.
But first she would play with Grandfather Mole, before eating. For she
was a pleasure-loving dame. She must have her sport, no matter if her
breakfast waited.
Grandfather Mole had blundered that morning. Burrowing his way just
under the surface of the ground, he had broken through the sun-baked
crust of the garden before he knew it. And as he groped about, surprised
to find himself in the open, Miss Kitty had pounced upon him.
Grandfather Mole struggled to escape. And his captor let him go, to give
herself the pleasure of pouncing upon him again. She knew well enough
that he couldn't get away from her. He could run quite spryly for an old
gentleman--it is true. But when he couldn't see where he was going, of
what use was running?
Farmer Green's cat didn't know the answer to that question herself. She
captured and freed Grandfather Mole several times. And to tell the
truth, she couldn't help wishing he could see, so he could make the game
livelier. But she was the sort of cat that believes in making the best
of things. And she kept pretending that Grandfather Mole almost got away
from her. She would let him run about for a few moments and then she
would leap upon him as if she had nearly lost him.
It was great fun for the cat. But Grandfather Mole did not enjoy it in
the least. He thought such treatment far from neighborly. And he quite
agreed with old Mr. Crow, who had come hurrying up to see what was going
on.
"Give him a chance! Give him a chance!" Mr. Crow called to the cat, as
he glared down at her from a tree close by.
The cat had been about to spring at Grandfather Mole again when Mr. Crow
spoke to her. It was only natural that she should pause and turn her
head. And she looked at Mr. Crow none too pleasantly.
"I'll thank you to mind your own affairs," she said, and her voice was
not nearly so polite as her words. "No gentleman would interrupt a lady
at her breakfast," she added.
Something seemed to amuse Mr. Crow, for he laughed loudly. The cat
didn't know what he was laughing at. And after staring at him a few
moments longer she turned her head to look at Grandfather Mole.
It wasn't more than ten seconds since she had taken her eyes off him.
But Grandfather Mole had vanished.
III
A BREAKFAST LOST
WHEN Farmer Green's cat looked around and discovered that Grandfather
Mole had disappeared from the garden a puzzled look came over her face.
She couldn't think where he had gone in just a few seconds.
But she knew then why Mr. Crow had laughed. And she was not pleased.
"Where is he?" she asked Mr. Crow. "You interrupted me at my breakfast
and now I've lost it."
Mr. Crow was rocking back and forth on his perch, for a joke--on anybody
except himself--always delighted him.
[Illustration: Grandfather Mole Escapes From Miss Kitty. (_Page 8_)]
"Grandfather Mole is right here in the garden," he declared.
"Then he must have hidden beneath a vegetable," the cat observed.
"I shouldn't say that, exactly," Mr. Crow replied.
"How far away is he?" the cat demanded.
"That would be hard to tell," Mr. Crow answered.
Farmer Green's cat had never liked Mr. Crow, for no particular reason.
And now she certainly had a very special reason for being angry with
him.
"It's all your fault," she scolded. "If you hadn't spoken to me I'd
never have taken my eyes off Grandfather Mole.... The least you can do,"
she added, "is to tell me this instant where Grandfather Mole is."
"I've already told you," Mr. Crow reminded her. "He's here in the
garden. Find him if you can!"
At that Farmer Green's cat began to run up and down between the rows of
vegetables. But she had no luck at all. So after a while she came back
and told Mr. Crow that she didn't believe him.
"Tut, tut!" said Mr. Crow. "You haven't looked in the right place."
"I've searched the whole garden!" the cat cried.
"Oh, no!" Mr. Crow exclaimed. "You've looked only on top of the ground.
If you want to find Grandfather Mole you must look beneath the surface."
The cat was greatly disappointed when she heard that.
"You don't mean to say that he went into a hole, do you?" she asked.
"I do," Mr. Crow declared.
"I don't see one anywhere," she said.
"If I had I'd have been more careful how I let him run about."
"Ah!" said Mr. Crow. "I see you don't know that Grandfather Mole always
carries a hole around with him, wherever he goes. He believes in having
one handy, in case of sudden need."
"I didn't see it," the cat told him angrily.
"Of course not!" Mr. Crow agreed. "How could you see a hole until it's
put in a certain place, ready to use?"
Well, the cat was puzzled. Somehow she couldn't quite understand Mr.
Crow's remarks. And yet there seemed some sense in them, too. But she
pretended that she understood, because she didn't want him to think she
was stupid. And without thanking him for his explanation (for she was
still angry) she turned and went off towards the meadow.
The whole affair amused Mr. Crow greatly. It kept him in a good humor
all that day. And he went about telling everybody how Grandfather Mole
had dug himself out of sight in the garden, almost under the cat's nose.
For that was exactly what had happened.
IV
A NEW WAY OF TAKING A STROLL
GRANDFATHER MOLE was digging a new gallery under the garden, leading out
from his house into a field of corn, where he expected to find a good
many fine grubs.
His work was half done, and he was under the cabbage-patch, when he
found himself in the open air. Farmer Green's hired man's hoe had left a
small hollow between two heads of cabbage; and as luck had it,
Grandfather Mole's gallery led straight into it. So the first thing he
knew, there he was right out in the light of early morning! And somebody
called out in a cheery sort of voice, "How-dy-do, Grandfather Mole!
It's a pleasure to see you! And isn't this a beautiful day?"
Grandfather Mole knew at once that he had nothing to fear, for he
recognized Jimmy Rabbit's voice. And he knew, too, without being told,
that he was in the cabbage-patch. For Jimmy Rabbit could be nowhere else
at breakfast time.
"Good morning!" said Grandfather Mole. "I hope you are enjoying your
breakfast."
"I am," Jimmy Rabbit answered. "And as soon as I've finished this leaf
I'm eating now, I'm going to take a stroll. Won't you join me?"
"I don't care if I do," said Grandfather Mole--meaning that he'd be glad
to walk with Jimmy. And in about half a minute Jimmy Rabbit said he was
ready.
"Very well!" Grandfather Mole told him. "Let's be on our way! I'll see
you at the edge of the duck-pond." And to Jimmy Rabbit's amazement he
stuck his nose straight down into the loose dirt, thrust out his strong
fore-feet, and was out of sight before Jimmy Rabbit could speak.
The duck-pond was just beyond the garden fence. And since Grandfather
Mole had accepted Jimmy's invitation there was nothing for Jimmy Rabbit
to do but to go to the edge of the pond and wait.
He grew very restless, for it was a long time before Grandfather Mole
appeared. But at last the old gentleman's head came popping up out of
the ground, and the owner of the head cried, "Here I am! And I'm glad to
see you haven't kept me waiting, young man. I dug so fast I was afraid
I'd get here before you did."
Really, he had made astonishing speed for one who had tunnelled his way
underground. And being a polite person, Jimmy Rabbit could only tell
Grandfather Mole that he had been very quick.
"And now we're this far," Grandfather Mole remarked, "I'd like to stroll
over in the meadow--if that suits you."
Jimmy Rabbit said that it did. There was clover in the meadow. And he
had waited so long for Grandfather Mole that he had begun to feel hungry
again. A luncheon of clover-tops! It would be exactly what he needed.
"Then let's be on our way!" Grandfather Mole cried again. "I'll join you
on the other side of the duck-pond!"
V
JIMMY RABBIT CAN'T WAIT
AFTER telling Jimmy Rabbit that he would meet him on the other side of
the duck-pond, Grandfather Mole waded into the water and started to swim
across.
Why he did that, instead of walking around on the shore, Jimmy Rabbit
couldn't understand. He was so amazed that he stood still and stared at
Grandfather Mole.
One thing was certain: Grandfather Mole could travel much faster through
the water than he could underground. His strong legs and his broad,
spade-like feet helped to make him a fine swimmer. And Jimmy Rabbit had
noticed for the first time that Grandfather Mole's hind feet were
webbed. It was no wonder that he felt quite at home in the duck-pond,
which was made for web-footed folk.
Jimmy Rabbit was so interested in watching Grandfather Mole swim that he
didn't start to run around the pond until the swimmer had almost reached
the other side. Then Jimmy remembered suddenly that he had to meet
Grandfather Mole over there. So he raced along the edge of the duck-pond
at top speed. And since he was a very fast runner--for short
distances--he met Grandfather Mole just as the old chap was crawling up
the bank.
"There!" Grandfather Mole exclaimed. "I almost beat you this time, young
man! If you're going to take a morning stroll with me you'll have to
step lively."
Of course Jimmy Rabbit was too polite to explain that he had waited a
long time while Grandfather Mole was tunnelling his way from the garden
to the pond, and that he hadn't begun to run around the pond until
Grandfather Mole had swum almost across it. He merely smiled and replied
that he would do his best to keep up, for he shouldn't like to make
Grandfather Mole wait, especially since he had invited Grandfather Mole
to go walking with him.
"You don't mind staying here in the sunshine, I hope, while my coat
dries?" Grandfather Mole inquired. "As soon as it's dry we'll start for
the meadow."
Though Jimmy Rabbit was in a great hurry to reach the place where the
clover grew he said that he would be glad to wait with Grandfather Mole.
"The sun feels good on this cool morning," he observed. "And it's
cheerful, too."
"Do you really think so?" Grandfather Mole asked him. And when Jimmy
Rabbit assured him that he did, Grandfather Mole muttered that it was
the strangest thing he ever heard of. As for him, he much preferred the
darkness of his cool, damp galleries under the ground. And the only
reason why he wanted his coat to dry was so that the dirt wouldn't stick
to it.
It seemed to Jimmy Rabbit that Grandfather Mole's coat would never get
dry enough to suit the old gentleman. But at last he announced that he
was ready to stroll on. And when Jimmy Rabbit cried that he was ready,
too, Grandfather Mole said, "Then let's be on our way! And I'll meet
you----"
"Where the clover grows!" Jimmy interrupted.
Grandfather Mole had already buried his nose in the sand and was fast
digging himself out of sight. And Jimmy thought that if he must wait for
him again he would wait in a pleasant place.
So Jimmy Rabbit hurried to the meadow. And as he lunched on luscious
clover-tops he reflected that Grandfather Mole had a queer notion of
taking a stroll with a friend. He made up his mind then and there that
he would never again invite Grandfather Mole to walk with him.
VI
A HEARTY EATER
A GREAT eater was Grandfather Mole. And having an enormous appetite he
was fortunate in being expert at finding angleworms.
To be sure, he had one advantage that the birds, for instance, didn't
enjoy: he was able to prowl about his galleries through the ground and
find the angleworms right where they lived. He didn't need to wait--as
the birds did--until an angleworm stuck his head above ground.
Mrs. Jolly Robin had often wished--when she was trying to feed a
rapidly-growing family--that she could hunt for angleworms as
Grandfather Mole did. And this summer it seemed to her that she never
would be able to take proper care of her nestful of children.
There was one of her family in particular that was especially greedy.
Mrs. Robin had begun to suspect that he was no child of hers, but a
young Cowbird. Almost as soon as she had finished building her nest she
had discovered a strange-looking egg there. It had been the first to
hatch. And now the youngster that came from it was just enough older
than the rest of her children to jostle them, and to grab the biggest
worms for himself.
It was no wonder that Mrs. Robin needed help. And seeing Grandfather
Mole one morning, she explained her difficulty to him, asking if he
wouldn't be so kind as to capture angleworms for her.
"Why, certainly! Certainly!" said Grandfather Mole.
And Mrs. Robin breathed a sigh of relief. She felt that her troubles
were ended.
"Will you begin to help me at once?" she asked Grandfather Mole.
"I'm sorry that I can't do that," he told her. "You see, I haven't had
my breakfast yet. So of course I must catch a few angleworms for
myself."
Mrs. Robin was a bit disappointed. But she told Grandfather Mole that it
was all right--that she knew a person of his age ought not to go without
his breakfast.
So Grandfather Mole went back into the hole through which he had lately
come up, first saying however that he would return after he had
breakfasted.
Mrs. Robin then set to work herself, to find what she could to feed her
clamoring family. Though she hurried as fast as she could, by the time
the morning was almost half gone her children were still hungry; and to
Mrs. Robin's distress Grandfather Mole had not yet showed himself again.
Mrs. Robin had been watching for him. And she had about given him up in
despair when all at once he rose out of the ground.
"Good!" she cried. "Now you can help me, for you must have had your
breakfast by this time."
"Yes, I have!" said Grandfather Mole. "I've just finished. But I always
begin my luncheon at this hour. So if you don't mind I'll go down into
my galleries and hunt for a few angleworms; and when I've had a good
meal I'll come back here."
Well, what could Mrs. Robin say? She nodded her head; and she hoped, as
Grandfather Mole vanished, that perhaps he would eat only a light
luncheon.
But he never reappeared until mid-afternoon. And since he announced then
that he was ready to begin his dinner Mrs. Jolly Robin saw that she
could expect no help from him whatsoever.
She was terribly upset. But there was nothing she could do except to
tell her husband that he would have to spend all his time catching
angleworms for the family. And since he was glad enough to do that, Mrs.
Robin managed to feed her children all they needed. Even the young
Cowbird in her nest had all he wanted.
And Mrs. Robin remarked that it was lucky her husband hadn't such a
terrible appetite as some people's--meaning Grandfather Mole's, of
course.
VII
TWO WORM-EATERS
THERE was one special reason--among others--why Grandfather Mole didn't
like to show himself above ground in the daytime. This reason
was--hawks! And there was something else that made him dislike to appear
at night, too. This something else was--owls!
But of the two, Grandfather Mole disliked hawks the more, because they
could see so far, while he (poor old fellow!) couldn't even see the end
of his own nose, though goodness knows it was long enough! Since Henry
Hawk could sit in a great elm far up the road and see him the moment he
stuck his head out of the ground, while Grandfather Mole couldn't even
see the tree, it was not surprising that Grandfather Mole preferred to
stay below while Henry Hawk was awake and on watch.
Down in his galleries and chambers where it was dark as a pocket
Grandfather Mole enjoyed himself thoroughly. It was lucky he was fond of
worms and grubs. If he hadn't been it would be hard to say what he could
have found to eat--unless it was dirt. There was plenty of that where he
spent his time. But luckily he didn't have to eat it. He did enjoy
digging in it, however. So it is easy to see that the way he lived
suited him perfectly.
Not every one, of course, would have felt as Grandfather Mole did about
angleworms, and grubs and dirt, or dampness, or the dark. Many of his
bird neighbors, for instance, liked the same things to eat that he did.
But most of them--except such odd ones as Solomon Owl, and Mr.
Nighthawk, and Willie Whip-poor-will--loved the bright sunshine.
Spending a summer in Pleasant Valley was a small gentleman of the well
known Warbler family, who had so great a liking for worms that he was
known as the Worm-eating Warbler. This tiny person spent little or none
of his time in the tree-tops, but chose to stay near the ground. And
more than once he had seen Grandfather Mole in Farmer Green's garden. He
had heard somehow of Grandfather Mole's tastes and habits. And he was
inclined to believe that it was Grandfather Mole that was to blame for
the scarcity of worms in the neighborhood. It must be confessed that he
felt none too kindly towards Grandfather Mole. He thought that it would
be a good thing if somebody could persuade that odd, old chap to stay on
top of the ground, instead of lurking most of the time down below where
he could catch the worms right where they lived.
And one day the Worm-eating Warbler spoke to Grandfather Mole when he
happened to see him come out of a hole.
"Why don't you live up here where you can get plenty of fresh air and
sunshine?" he asked. "Don't you know they'd be good for your health?"
Grandfather Mole turned his head toward the speaker. That was as near as
he could come to staring at him, since he couldn't see him. Grandfather
Mole did not like the Worm-eating Warbler's remarks in the least!
"Why don't you"--he inquired--"why don't you come down into the ground
and enjoy the close, damp air and the darkness? They'd be good for your
health. I've thrived down below all my life; and I'm considerably older
than you, young sir!"
Grandfather Mole's retort struck the Worm-eating Warbler dumb. He could
think of nothing more to say. So he flew off and hid in some raspberry
bushes. And he couldn't help saying to himself what a strange world it
was and what strange persons there were in it.
VIII
LOSING HIS BEARINGS
IT often happened, when Grandfather Mole came up from his home under
Farmer Green's garden, that he turned straight around and went back
again. Sometimes, to be sure, he ran about a bit in a bewildered way,
before he disappeared. For he never felt at home in the world above; and
he was always uneasy until he felt the darkness closing in around him.
So nobody thought it strange when Grandfather Mole came tumbling up
amongst the turnips one day and began running blindly around the garden,
zig-zagging in every direction. Nobody that saw him paid much attention
to him. But at last Rusty Wren, who had come to the garden to look for
worms, noticed that Grandfather Mole was quite upset over something. He
didn't seem to have any notion of going back into the ground, but kept
twisting this way and that, with his long nose turning here and turning
there, in a manner that was unmistakably inquiring.
"What's the matter?" Rusty Wren finally asked him, for his curiosity
soon got the better of him.
But Grandfather Mole didn't appear to hear. Perhaps he didn't want to
answer the question.
"Have you lost something?" Rusty Wren cried.
But Grandfather Mole never stopped to reply. He never stopped running
to and fro. And Rusty Wren became more curious than ever. It was plain,
to him, that something unusual was afoot. And he wanted to know what it
was. "Can't I help you?" he asked in his shrillest tones, flying close
to Grandfather Mole and speaking almost in his ear--only Grandfather
Mole had no ears, so far as Rusty Wren could see. "Can't I help you?"
"Yes, you can!" Grandfather Mole answered at last. "If you wish to help
me, for pity's sake go away and keep still! I don't want the whole
neighborhood to come a-running. The cat will be here the first thing we
know."
Rusty Wren felt sure, then, that Grandfather Mole was in trouble. And if
he was worried about Farmer Green's cat, why didn't he dig a hole for
himself at once, and get out of harm's way?
Since Rusty Wren didn't know, he asked Grandfather Mole--in little more
than a whisper. But Grandfather Mole only shook his head impatiently, as
if to say that digging a hole wouldn't help him this time.
Meanwhile some of Rusty Wren's friends had come up to see what was going
on. And talking in low tones, so that they wouldn't attract the cat's
attention, they agreed with him that there was some mystery about
Grandfather Mole. But not one of them knew what it could be.
"He's lost something!" Rusty Wren declared.
"There's no doubt of that," Jolly Robin chimed in.
"What can it be?" little Mr. Chippy piped in his thin voice.
"I know!" Rusty Wren exclaimed abruptly. "It's his bearings! Grandfather
Mole has lost his bearings!"
IX
GOOD NEWS FROM BELOW
WHEN Rusty Wren decided that Grandfather Mole had lost his bearings and
that that was the reason why he was running about the garden in a most
peculiar fashion, the rest of the birds began to wonder whether they
oughtn't to help Grandfather Mole find them, since he was blind.
The Worm-eating Warbler, however, who was none too friendly towards
Grandfather Mole, said that he had his doubts as to Grandfather Mole's
blindness.
"If he can find angleworms in the dark he certainly ought to be able to
find his bearings in broad daylight," he sneered.
But Rusty Wren pointed out that nobody could _see_ bearings, anyhow--a
remark that puzzled the Worm-eating Warbler more than a little. To tell
the truth, he had no idea what bearings were. And at last he admitted
that he didn't know.
"What are bearings, anyhow?" he asked Rusty Wren. "I don't understand
what you mean."
"Oh, I mean that Grandfather Mole has lost his way," Rusty Wren
explained. "He doesn't know how to get home."
The Worm-eating Warbler asked why Grandfather Mole didn't dig a new hole
for himself, if he had lost the one he used when he came up in the
garden. And when he saw that Rusty Wren couldn't answer his question the
Worm-eating Warbler said he had his doubts as to Rusty Wren's ideas
about Grandfather Mole.
"It's my opinion," he went on, "that Grandfather Mole has eaten all the
worms that lived in the ground; and now he's hoping to find some in the
air."
Although everybody laughed at such a notion, the Worm-eating Warbler
declared that he had a right to his own belief. And when he added that
he hadn't seen an angleworm for two days there were a few of his bird
companions that began to think perhaps there was some reason in his
remarks, after all.
But Rusty Wren declined to change his opinion.
"There's only one way to be sure; and that's to ask Grandfather Mole!"
little Mr. Chippy cried.
"It wouldn't do any good," Rusty told him. "Grandfather Mole won't
answer any questions. But he's in some sort of trouble. There's no
doubt of that."
They looked down at Grandfather Mole, who was still scurrying
frantically about the garden. If he heard their talk he did nothing to
let them know it. And they had begun to think that they would never know
his secret when a person who looked somewhat like Grandfather Mole
thrust her head and shoulders out of a hole in the ground.
"That"--Rusty Wren whispered--"that is Grandfather Mole's daughter. I
know, for I've seen her before." And listening sharply, the bird people
heard her say, "Don't worry, Father! I've found them."
Grandfather Mole didn't wait for anything more. He didn't even wait
until he had found the opening in which his daughter had appeared. He
began to dig right where he stood. And he was out of sight in short
order.
Although the bird people didn't know it, he was anxious to reach his
grandchildren. He had them out for a stroll through his underground
galleries; and walking behind him they had taken a wrong turn when
Grandfather Mole didn't know it. After looking for them in vain down
below he had feared that they might have found their way into the open
air. And that was why he was running about in such a distracted
fashion.
X
MRS. ROBIN'S WISH
IN order to provide enough food for her children--as well as for the
young Cowbird that she was bringing up--Mrs. Jolly Robin had to work
hard every day. Though her husband gladly did what he could to help her,
he complained sometimes about the stranger in their nest.
"Our family is certainly big enough without him," he often remarked. "We
ought to turn him out to shift for himself."
But Mrs. Robin wouldn't hear of such a thing.
"It's not his fault that his mother left him here--in the egg," she
would remind Jolly Robin. "If we set him adrift the poor child would
starve--unless the cat got him."
And then Jolly Robin would feel ashamed that he had even thought of
being so cruel to an infant bird, even if he was a Cowbird. So he would
set to work harder than ever gathering worms and grubs and bugs; and
before long he would find himself singing merrily, "Cheerily, cheer-up!"
because it made him happy to know that he was doing somebody a good
turn.
Once in a while Grandfather Mole thrust his head out of the soil of the
garden, as if he were watching Mr. and Mrs. Robin at their task. Of
course he couldn't see what they were doing. But Mrs. Robin said that it
gave her a queer turn to have Grandfather Mole stick his nose out of
the ground at her very feet. And since he was too busy catching
angleworms for himself to help her and her husband, she wished he would
keep out of sight.
Sometimes Grandfather Mole would speak to Mrs. Robin, or her husband;
for he could hear them talking. And when you hear anybody in a garden
exclaiming, "Oh, here's a big one! The children will like him, if I can
ever pull him loose!" you may know at once that the speaker is talking
about an angleworm. There can be no mistake about it.
When Grandfather Mole overheard Mrs. Robin making such a remark he would
quite likely advise her to "try a smaller one."
Such a suggestion only made Mrs. Robin pull all the harder.
"Grandfather Mole wants all the big ones himself," she would splutter
as soon as she and her husband were where Grandfather Mole couldn't
listen to what she said. And then, probably, Jolly Robin would laugh and
tell her not to mind, for there ought to be worms enough for everybody.
More than once, when Grandfather Mole had advised her to "try a smaller
one," Mrs. Robin had declared afterward that she wished she could catch
the biggest angleworm in the whole garden, just to spite old Grandfather
Mole and teach him that other people had their rights, as well as he.
"Well, well!" Jolly Robin always exclaimed with a laugh. "Well, well!
Perhaps some day you will find the grandfather of all the angleworms!"
XI
SURPRISING GRANDFATHER MOLE
SOMEHOW Grandfather Mole heard that Mrs. Robin hoped to capture the
biggest angleworm in the garden. So the very next time he happened to
find her at work there he offered her another bit of unsought advice.
And Mrs. Robin liked it no better than any other of Grandfather Mole's
counsels.
"Don't waste your valuable time looking for the biggest angleworm in the
garden!" he told her. "I've caught him already."
Well, for once Mrs. Robin almost said something tart to the old
gentleman. But she checked herself in time; not by biting her tongue,
however, but by clapping her bill upon a fat bug that was trying to hide
under a potato-top. And away she flew to her nest, leaving Grandfather
Mole to talk to the air, if he wished.
"She went off without thanking me," he muttered. To be sure, he hadn't
seen Mrs. Robin go, but he had heard the beat of her wings as she began
her flight. He didn't know that he had barely escaped a sharp scolding.
"What do you think Grandfather Mole has just said to me?" Mrs. Robin
asked her husband, whom she found at the nest feeding their children.
Jolly Robin made three guesses. But none of them was right. So his wife
repeated Grandfather Mole's remarks. And as usual Jolly Robin laughed.
"I shouldn't pay any attention to what Grandfather Mole says," he
advised his wife. "I should keep an eye out for big angleworms, if I
were you. Grandfather Mole may be mistaken. He may have caught only the
second biggest one."
What her husband said made Mrs. Robin feel better. And she declared that
she would surprise Grandfather Mole yet.
Strange to say, the very next day Grandfather Mole spoke to Mrs. Robin
again and told her that "there was no use trying to surprise him, so she
needn't waste her valuable time trying to do it."
This news made Mrs. Robin quite speechless. She couldn't think how
Grandfather Mole had happened to learn of her remark, unless her husband
had been gossiping with his friends. And if that was the case, Mrs.
Robin didn't mean to let anything of the kind occur again. So she went
on searching for her children's breakfast and said nothing to any one
about Grandfather Mole's latest bit of advice.
Mrs. Robin worked harder than ever that day. It seemed to her husband
that she had eyes for nothing but worms. Certainly she paid little
attention to him. So he couldn't help feeling pleased when she called to
him toward evening.
He flew quickly to her side. And he saw at once that she needed his
help. For Mrs. Robin had an end of a pinkish-white worm in her bill, on
which she was tugging as hard as she could.
"I think it's the biggest one in the garden!" she managed to gasp. "But
it simply won't come up out of the ground."
"It must be the grandfather of them all!" Jolly Robin cried. And laying
hold of the worm himself, he pulled with her.
Somehow there seemed a great commotion in the loose dirt at their feet,
as they struggled to get the worm out of its hiding-place. And at last,
to their great delight, they felt it--saw it--coming.
Then a shower of dirt flew into their faces and both Jolly Robin and his
wife tumbled over backward.
It was no worm that Mrs. Robin had found, but Grandfather Mole's
hairless tail sticking out of the ground. Together they had dragged him
to the surface.
And if Mrs. Robin hadn't found the grandfather of all angleworms, at
least she had found Grandfather Mole.
And she had given him a surprise, too.
XII
MR. BLACKBIRD'S ADVICE
OUT of the pine woods beyond the meadow Mr. Blackbird sometimes came to
breakfast in Farmer Green's garden. He claimed that he came there to
look for angleworms. But those that knew him best said that he wasn't
above taking an egg out of some small bird's nest. And some whispered
that he had even been known to devour a nestling.
Whenever he visited the garden he told everybody that he should never
come there again because Grandfather Mole was too greedy. Mr. Blackbird
said that Grandfather Mole didn't leave enough angleworms to make it
worth his while to fly across the meadow. And one day when he chanced to
meet Grandfather Mole he told him that it was a shame, the way he was
treating Farmer Green.
"Farmer Green is good enough to let you live underneath his garden. But
instead of showing him that you are grateful you eat all of his
angleworms you can."
Grandfather Mole was thunderstruck. After pondering over Mr. Blackbird's
speech for a few moments he raised his head. "What shall I do?" he asked
in a plaintive voice.
"I should think you'd turn over a new leaf," Mr. Blackbird told him
severely.
And Grandfather Mole promised that he would.
"I'll turn one over to-day," he said, "if you think it will please
Farmer Green."
"There's no doubt that it will," Mr. Blackbird assured him in a
slightly more amiable tone.
A hopeful look came into Grandfather Mole's face. And after thanking Mr.
Blackbird for his advice, he turned away and burrowed out of sight.
Then Mr. Blackbird selected a good many choice tidbits here and there,
which he bolted with gusto. And after he had eaten what Jolly Robin, who
had been watching him, declared afterward to have been a hearty meal and
big enough for any one, Mr. Blackbird began to scold. He announced that
there wasn't any use of his looking for anything more to eat in that
neighborhood, for there wasn't enough there to keep a mosquito alive.
And thereupon he flew away. Nor was anybody sorry to see him go.
Most of the feathered folk agreed that Mr. Blackbird ought not to have
spoken as he did to Grandfather Mole. But Jolly Robin's wife said that
she was glad there was somebody with backbone enough to tell Grandfather
Mole the truth.
"If there were many more like Grandfather Mole in the garden we'd all
have to spend our summers somewhere else," she said, "or starve."
Jolly Robin told her that she would find things much the same, no matter
where she lived. "What's a garden, without an old mole or two?" he asked
the company in general. And since nobody answered, Jolly Robin seemed to
think he had silenced Mrs. Robin--for once.
But it was not so.
"A garden without an old mole in it would be just what I'd like," she
cried.
"Well, anyhow, my dear," her husband said, "please remember that
Grandfather Mole is going to turn over a new leaf."
XIII
TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF
SEVERAL days passed before Mr. Blackbird returned to Farmer Green's
garden. And when at last he flew across the meadow one morning and
perched on the garden fence, to take a look around before beginning his
breakfast, he saw that Mrs. Jolly Robin was making countless trips
between the garden and her home. Early as it was she was hard at work
feeding her nestlings.
"How are the pickings this morning?" Mr. Blackbird called to her.
"I'm finding plenty for my children to eat--if that's what you mean,"
Mrs. Robin replied somewhat haughtily. Mr. Blackbird laughed in the
sleeve of his black coat. The rascal delighted in using language that
did not please Mrs. Robin.
"If the pickings are good, then there must be fewer pickers," he
remarked with a grin. "I suppose Grandfather Mole has taken my advice
and turned over a new leaf."
"I don't know about that," said Mrs. Robin. "Anyhow, there are plenty of
good crawling things stirring after last night's shower. Everything
seems to be coming up out of the garden this morning."
She had scarcely finished speaking when Grandfather Mole poked his head
from beneath a head of lettuce. Mr. Blackbird was just about to begin
his breakfast. But he paused when he saw Grandfather Mole.
"Hello!" he cried. "What brings you to the surface?"
Grandfather Mole knew Mr. Blackbird's voice at once.
"I'm glad you're here!" he exclaimed. "I want you to tell Farmer Green
the news. For I know he'll be delighted to hear it."
Then Mr. Blackbird did an ungentlemanly thing. He winked at Jolly
Robin's wife. But he was a rowdy. So what could you expect of him?
"You've turned over a new leaf, have you?" he asked Grandfather Mole.
"Yes!" said Grandfather Mole. "And not only one! I've turned over a new
one every day since I last saw you."
Mr. Blackbird replied that he was glad to know it.
[Illustration: Grandfather Mole Greets Mr. Meadow Mouse. (_Page 61_)]
"At least," Grandfather Mole continued, "I've turned over the newest
leaves I could. Of course you can't turn over a leaf unless it's big
enough to turn over. When a leaf is so young that it wraps itself around
the main stalk it's useless to try to turn it over. And it's a great
waste of time waiting for it to grow.... But it's easy to turn over a
big one." Suiting his action to his words, Grandfather Mole stepped up
to a loose-growing head of lettuce, and thrusting his long nose under a
drooping leaf he lifted it up and pushed it over.
As soon as he moved aside a little the leaf promptly righted itself.
Grandfather Mole felt it brush his back as it swept into place again.
"Of course," he remarked, "you can't expect a leaf to stay turned over,
unless you want to stand and hold it in place. And that would be a great
waste of time--especially for one as hungry as I am." And poking his
drill-like snout into the earth, he drew forth a huge angleworm, which
quickly disappeared down his throat.
Mr. Blackbird choked; and not over anything he was eating, either. He
choked because he was angry.
"It's no use," he said gloomily to Mrs. Robin, as soon as he could
speak. "It's no use trying to get Grandfather Mole to stop eating
angleworms. In my opinion, he's too old to turn over a new leaf--the way
I meant.
"You can't teach an old Mole new tricks," said Mr. Blackbird.
XIV
THE NEW SUNSHADE
GRANDFATHER MOLE was resting in the shade of a toadstool. It was a
stifling, sultry day. And having come up into the garden on some errand
or other, Grandfather Mole had found the sunshine upon his back
altogether too hot for his liking.
He was thinking how comfortable his own cool, dark chambers were, and
wondering why anybody should prefer to live above ground in the heat,
when a voice called to him, "What a fine umbrella you have! It must be a
handy thing to have in one's family!"
It was Mr. Meadow Mouse speaking. And since Grandfather Mole knew him
to be a harmless sort of person he asked him to come over and join him.
"To be sure, there's not room enough for two under my sunshade,"
Grandfather Mole said. "But you can stand just outside it. And perhaps
the sight of me in the shade may help you to feel cooler, even if you
are in the sun."
Well, Mr. Meadow Mouse smiled a bit, all to himself. He knew that
Grandfather Mole was odd. And being a good-natured person and wishing to
please Grandfather Mole, Mr. Meadow Mouse joined him.
"What do you think of it now?" Grandfather Mole demanded of Mr. Meadow
Mouse, almost as soon as he had stepped just outside the shade of the
toadstool. "Don't you feel cooler already? I shouldn't care to stay in
the garden a second without this sunshade."
Mr. Meadow Mouse wanted to be polite. So he replied that perhaps he did
feel a bit more comfortable.
"You ought to own one of these," said Grandfather Mole.
"I've heard they're not always easy to find," Mr. Meadow Mouse remarked.
"That's true," Grandfather agreed.
"You don't--ahem!--you don't use this one all the time, do you?" Mr.
Meadow Mouse inquired.
"No!" Grandfather Mole answered. "Not when it rains!"
"Then," said Mr. Meadow Mouse, "maybe you'll let me borrow your umbrella
(or sunshade, as you call it) some rainy day."
"Certainly! You shall take it the next time it rains!" Grandfather
promised.
As Mr. Meadow Mouse murmured, "Thank you!" he looked up at the sky with
a knowing eye. He could see signs there. But of course Grandfather Mole
had never seen the sky in all his life.
"The very next time it rains!" Mr. Meadow Mouse repeated, as if he
wanted to be sure there was no misunderstanding about it.
"Certainly! Certainly!" Grandfather Mole said. "And as I've remarked
before, I'd be glad to let you come under the sunshade now, beside me,
if there was only room enough for both of us."
"You needn't trouble yourself," Mr. Meadow Mouse told him. And once more
he scanned the sky eagerly.
"What's that?" Grandfather Mole cried suddenly, as he started up in
alarm. "What struck the top of my sunshade?"
"I don't know," said Mr. Meadow Mouse. "I don't know what it was, unless
it was a rain-drop."
XV
TWO AND A TOADSTOOL
GRANDFATHER MOLE had promised Mr. Meadow Mouse that he would loan him
his toadstool sunshade--or umbrella--the very next time it rained. But
when he agreed to that, Grandfather hadn't the slightest idea there was
a shower coming. Mr. Meadow Mouse, however, had watched the dark clouds
gathering in the sky. But he had said nothing of what he saw. And when
the rain-drops began to patter on top of Grandfather Mole's sunshade Mr.
Meadow Mouse cried in a brisk voice: "I'll thank you, sir, for the loan
of your umbrella!"
Now, Grandfather Mole had never used his umbrella until that very day.
It was not a quarter of an hour since he had discovered it standing in
the garden. And when he had made his promise to Mr. Meadow Mouse he had
had no idea that it was going to rain so soon. He didn't like the
thought of loaning a new umbrella the first day he owned it.
"Can't you wait?" he asked Mr. Meadow Mouse. "Wouldn't some other day
suit you just as well?"
But Mr. Meadow Mouse reminded him that a promise was a promise.
"Well, then--can't you squeeze in beside me?" Grandfather Mole asked
him.
But Mr. Meadow Mouse said that he didn't see how he could do that. "Now
that it rains there's no more room under your umbrella than there was a
few moments ago, when the sun was shining."
"You're mistaken," said Grandfather Mole.
Mr. Meadow Mouse looked surprised. "I don't understand how that can be,"
he muttered.
"This toadstool is growing bigger all the time," Grandfather Mole
explained.
"Very well!" said Mr. Meadow Mouse. "If you think there's room for two,
I'll crowd in." As he spoke he wedged himself between Grandfather Mole
and the stem of the toadstool umbrella. And immediately Grandfather Mole
found himself out in the rain. The old gentleman didn't like that very
well; and he said as much, too.
"It's plain that your umbrella didn't grow as much as you thought," Mr.
Meadow Mouse retorted.
"You're mistaken," Grandfather Mole told him once more. "My umbrella
grew exactly as much as I expected it would. But there was one thing I
forgot."
"What was that?"
"You were growing at the same time," Grandfather Mole replied.
"Yes! And there's another thing that you forgot!" Mr. Meadow Mouse
exclaimed.
"I doubt it," said Grandfather Mole. And though he didn't ask what it
was, Mr. Meadow Mouse told him.
"You were growing too!" he cried.
But Grandfather Mole couldn't agree with Mr. Meadow Mouse.
"I'm too old to grow any more," he said.
"Pardon me," said Mr. Meadow Mouse, "but I don't see how a person with
your well known appetite can help growing fat. And anyhow I'm sorry
you're out in the rain. But it's certainly not my fault."
"We won't discuss that," Grandfather Mole told him. "And since I don't
want to get wet I'm going home.... I hope you'll take good care of my
new sunshade. And please don't forget to return it!" he added anxiously.
"I'll leave it right here for you," Mr. Meadow Mouse promised.
Though Grandfather Mole was far from satisfied he crawled into the
ground and left Mr. Meadow Mouse to enjoy the rain pattering on the top
of the toadstool. And the next day, to his great relief, Grandfather
Mole found his sunshade in the same spot. Mr. Meadow Mouse hadn't taken
it away. To tell the truth, he had tried to; but he had found that he
couldn't move it. Grandfather Mole said it was the first sunshade that a
borrower had ever returned to him.
And that was the truth. For he had never owned a sunshade before.
XVI
GRANDFATHER MOLE'S VISITOR
WHATEVER Grandfather Mole's neighbors might say of him, they never could
claim that he was lazy. He was always busy. When he wasn't eating or
sleeping you could be quite sure that he was digging. He never seemed to
be satisfied with his house, but was forever making what he called
"improvements." If there was one thing he liked, it was plenty of halls.
He had halls running in every direction. And since a person could never
tell in which one Grandfather Mole might be, visitors might roam about
his dark galleries a long time without finding him.
If anybody happened to point out to Grandfather Mole that his house had
such a drawback, Grandfather Mole always answered that he liked his
house just as it was and that he wouldn't change it for anything--except
to add a few more halls.