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 appet.i.te 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 appet.i.te 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 n.o.body 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. n.o.body 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?"