The Tale of Grandfather Mole | Page 6

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