The House of Arden | Page 9

of sandwich and crumbled cake, despised at dinner-time, but now, somehow, tasting quite different. These helped to pass the time till the sun almost seemed to rest on a brown shoulder of the downs, that looked as though it were shrugging itself up to meet the round red ball that the evening mists had made of the sun.
The children had not spoken for several minutes. Their four eyes were fixed on the sun, and as the edge of it seemed to flatten itself against the hill-shoulder Elfrida whispered, "Now!" and gave her brother the paper.
They had read the spell so often, as they sat there in the waning light, that both knew it by heart, so there was no need for Edred to read it. And that was lucky, for in that thick, pink light the faint ink hardly showed at all on the yellowy paper.
Edred stood up.
"Now!" said Elfrida, again. "Say it now." And Edred said, quite out loud and in a pleasant sort of sing-song, such as he was accustomed to use at school when reciting the stirring ballads of the late Lord Macaulay, or the moving tale of the boy on the burning deck:--
"'Hear, Oh badge of Arden's house,
����The spell my little age allows;
����Arden speaks it without fear,
����Badge of Arden's house, draw near,
����Make me brave and kind and wise,
����And show me where the treasure lies.'"
He said it slowly and carefully, his sister eagerly listening, ready to correct him if he said a word wrong. But he did not.
"Where the treasure lies," he ended, and the great silence of the downs seemed to rush in like a wave to fill the space which his voice had filled.
And nothing else happened at all. A flush of pink from the sun-setting spread over the downs, the grass-stems showed up thin and distinct, the skylarks had ceased to sing, but the scent of the bean-flowers and the seaweed was stronger than ever. And nothing happened till Edred cried out, "What's that?" For close to his foot something moved, not quickly or suddenly so as to startle, but very gently, very quietly, very unmistakably--something that glittered goldenly in the pink, diffused light of the sun-setting.
"Why," said Elfrida stooping, "why, it's--"
CHAPTER II
THE MOULDIWARP
AND it was--it was the living image of the little pig-like animal that was stamped in gold above the chequered shield on the cover of the white book in which they had found the spell. And as on the yellowy white of the vellum book-cover, so here on the thymy grass of the knoll it shone golden. The children stood perfectly still. They were afraid to move lest they should scare away this little creature which, though golden, was alive and moved about at their feet, turning a restless nose to right and left.
"It is," said Elfrida again, very softly, so as not to frighten it.
"What?" Edred asked, though he knew well enough.
"Off the book that we got the spell out of."
"That was our crest on the top of our coat-of-arms, like on the old snuff-box that was great-grandpapa's."
"Well, this is our crest come alive, that's all."
"Don't you be too clever," said Edred. "It said badge; I don't believe badge is the same thing as crest. A badge is leeks, or roses, or thistles--something you can wear in your cap. I shouldn't like to wear that in my cap."
And still the golden thing at their feet moved cautiously and without ceasing.
"Why," said Edred suddenly, "it's just a common old mole."
"It isn't; it's our own crest, that's on the spoons and things. It's our own old family mole that's our crest. How can it be a common mole? It's all golden."
And, even as she spoke, it left off being golden. For the last bit of sun dipped behind the shoulder of the downs, and in the grey twilight that was left the mole was white--any one could see that.
"Oh!" said Elfrida--but she stuck to her point. "So you see," she went on, "it can't be just a really-mole. Really-moles are black."
"Well," said Edred, "it's very tame, I will say that."
"Well--" Edred was beginning; but, at that same moment the mole also, suddenly and astonishingly, said, "Well?"
There was a hushed pause. Then--
"Did you say that?" Elfrida whispered.
"No," said Edred, "you did."
"Don't whisper, now," said the mole; "'tain't purty manners, so I tells 'ee."
With one accord the two children came to their knees, one on each side of the white mole.
"I say!" said Edred.
"Now, don't," said the mole, pointing its nose at him quite as disdainfully as any human being could have pointed a finger. "Don't you go for to pretend you don't know as Mouldiwarps 'as got tongues in dere heads same's what you've got."
"But not to talk with?" said Elfrida softly.
"Don't you tell me," said the Mouldiwarp, bristling a little. "Hasn't no