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You see the Court Hedgehog is to be there, and so it is very select." "Select! I'll make them select!" growled the proprietor of the Inn with a scowl. "Who are they I should like to know? They may have Gypsies upon them at any moment!" "Oh, I hope not!" cried the Mole-mother.
"It's a blessing it's dark, and he can't see the children laughing," thought the Mole-mother, "or I don't know what would happen." "Everything that belonged to a King should be treated with Royal respect," continued the Chip.
We won't terrify the Hedgehogs What can they do? but we'll collect all the Moles of the neighbourhood, and make a burrow all round the house; then if the Tinker's son comes, he'll fall in, and can't get any further. What do you think of that, eh?" "An excellent idea!" said the Mole-mother, recovering. "Send Karl round to-night, and begin the first thing to-morrow morning."
"He is quite a trial to us sometimes!" she whispered to the Mole-mother. "Such bad taste to mention Gypsies. It makes me tremble in every quill!" "I think I must be going now," said the Mole-mother hurriedly, putting away her knitting into a reticule, and tying a woollen hood over her head for she felt that it would not do for strangers to be mixed up in these family matters.
As the last words were spoken, a lump of earth fell from the roof, flattening out the stone-heap, and the Chip only escaped destruction by rolling on one side, where he lay shaking with fright and calling to the Mole-mother to help him. But the Mole had retired with her family to a place of safety. She knew what was happening.
"If there isn't some mischief brewing, may I be made into waistcoats!" exclaimed the Mole-father, throwing down his newspaper. It was his favourite expression when much excited, and never failed to give the Mole-mother a shiver all down her back. She called it such very strong language. At this moment Karl came clattering down the steps. "Oh, father! mother! I have heard something!" he shouted.
The Court Hedgehog, with an escort of six guards, had meanwhile arrived at the Mole's house, and was being entertained by the Mole-mother and her children, who were all in a state of great nervousness. The Court Hedgehog, however, appeared to be more condescending than could have been expected from his position.
"But fifty miles is really almost too far to go with nothing but a cup of coffee at the end," said the Hedgehog-mother, "and he never invites us to sleep. We don't, therefore, see so much of him as we otherwise should do." "That must be very trying," replied the Mole-mother, to whom these confidences were being poured out.
"There's a Tinker's boy in the town," said the Innkeeper, darkly, "and he's always looking out for Hedgehogs I shouldn't be surprised if he heard where the family live." "Good-night!" said the Mole-mother, nervously, and hurried on with her children. "Some mischief will be done if we don't watch," she said to Emmie, who was a mole of unusual intelligence.
In the one arm-chair sat the Mole-father, reading the newspaper; while his sister, Aunt Betta, with a cap with long streaming ribbons on her head, was busily stirring something in a saucepan. As the Mole-mother and her family, descended the stone stairway that led from the upper air, a delicious smell of cooking greeted them.
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