The Tale of Grandfather Mole Part 8

XIX

MR. CROW'S APOLOGY

IT was lucky for Mr. Meadow Mouse that he had placed a little distance between himself and Grandfather Mole down in the gallery under the cornfield. For when Grandfather Mole rushed at him, Mr. Meadow Mouse had just enough lead to escape. He made for the open air as fast as he could scramble, knowing that Grandfather Mole could never catch him once he reached the great out-of-doors.

Perhaps it was only natural that Grandfather Mole should have been angry with Mr. Meadow Mouse. n.o.body likes to be accused of thieving--especially when he is innocent. And when the real corn thief (Mr. Meadow Mouse) declined to take the blame off Grandfather Mole's shoulders maybe his anger was not altogether uncalled-for.

After all, Grandfather Mole was glad, in a way, that Mr. Meadow Mouse had got away from him. "It proves"--Grandfather Mole told himself--"it proves that Mr. Meadow Mouse is not only a thief: he's a coward as well."

At the same time, any one that really knew old Mr. Crow couldn't have blamed Mr. Meadow Mouse for not wanting to follow Grandfather's suggestion. Grandfather Mole had asked Mr. Meadow Mouse to allow Mr.

Crow to catch him with his mouth full of corn, so that Mr. Crow might know that it wasn't Grandfather Mole that was taking the seed corn, as Mr. Crow supposed.

Mr. Meadow Mouse was too well acquainted with old Mr. Crow to get himself into any such fix as that.

When he found himself above ground, after Grandfather Mole had chased him out of his galleries, Mr. Meadow Mouse felt so pleased with himself that he couldn't help telling his neighbors about his adventure. He boasted that he had been eating the seed corn out of the hills. And he declared that he didn't care if Mr. Crow heard of it himself.

"It's no more his corn than mine," Mr. Meadow Mouse said. "It belongs to Farmer Green. And since he has never spoken to me about missing any, I don't believe he cares. Besides, I've often noticed that he drops more kernels in a hill than he expects will grow. And really I've been saving him the trouble of pulling up a good many young stalks."

All this Mr. Meadow Mouse spread far and wide. And soon it reached the ears of old Mr. Crow.

"Ha!" Mr. Crow exclaimed. "So he's the thief! I'll have to teach him a lesson."

It was Jasper Jay that had related the news to his cousin, old Mr. Crow.

And now he asked, "What about Grandfather Mole? Don't you think you ought to apologize to him?"

That was a strange thing for Jasper Jay to ask. He was the greatest rowdy in the woods, with shocking manners.

Mr. Crow gave Jasper a sidewise glance.

"Will you apologize for me?" he inquired. "I'm too busy to do it myself."

"Certainly I will!" Jasper Jay cried. "Leave that to me!" And he hurried off at once to find Grandfather Mole.

Jasper was lucky enough to see Grandfather Mole's head sticking out of the ground, when he reached the garden.

"I have a message for you!" Jasper told him. "My cousin Mr. Crow--the old black rascal!--was going to punish you for stealing corn. But he has made other arrangements."

"Mr. Crow"--Grandfather Mole spluttered--"Mr. Crow owes me an apology."

"Not now, he doesn't!" Jasper disputed.

"Why not?" Grandfather Mole cried.

"Because I've just brought his apology and given it to you," Jasper Jay replied.

But Grandfather Mole told him to be gone, and to take the apology away with him.

"It's nothing but an insult!" Grandfather Mole declared.

XX

A SIGN OF RAIN

OVER near the garden fence lay an old hollow log. Grandfather Mole discovered it one day; and thinking that it would be a fine place to look for grubs and other good things, he crept into one end of it.

If he had been able to see, near the other end of the log, a pair of bright eyes that peered at him out of the darkness perhaps he would have backed out in a hurry. But it was all right. The owner of the two eyes was only Sandy Chipmunk. And he spoke pleasantly to Grandfather Mole, in a soft sort of chatter, because he didn't want to alarm him.

"Good afternoon!" said Grandfather Mole. At Sandy's first word he had jumped. But as soon as he knew who was in the log with him he felt safe enough. "What are you doing here, young man?" Grandfather inquired.

"I came in to get out of the rain," Sandy told him.

"Rain!" Grandfather Mole exclaimed. "It's not raining!"

"I know that. But it's going to," Sandy Chipmunk replied.

"There's not the least sign of rain," Grandfather Mole declared. Being older than Sandy, he didn't hesitate to dispute what Sandy said. And he never troubled himself to apologize, either. Sandy Chipmunk noticed that, for he had been carefully reared by his mother. But he knew that Grandfather Mole was considered an odd old gentleman. And besides, what could Sandy have said that wouldn't have sounded rude?

"There's not a sign of rain," Grandfather Mole repeated, "so far as I can see."

"How far can you see?" Sandy inquired politely.

"Tut, tut!" said Grandfather Mole. "What I mean is that I haven't _noticed_ anything that foretells rain. For instance, I haven't had a twinge of rheumatism since I don't know when."

"Well, I'm glad of that, anyhow," Sandy a.s.sured him. "But I saw a sign of rain to-day that perhaps you never noticed."

"What was that?"

"Farmer Green's cat was washing her face on the doorsteps," Sandy explained triumphantly. "It's a sure sign of rain. My mother has never known it to fail."

"Farmer Green's cat!" Grandfather Mole repeated after him. And he shuddered as he spoke. "Don't you know that she's not a trustworthy person? You surely don't depend on her, I hope! She's not dependable."

"Well, you can always depend on her to jump at you," Sandy observed.

"She's a coward--that's what she is," Grandfather Mole scolded. "You never heard of her chasing anybody that was bigger than herself, did you? You never heard of her attacking Fatty c.o.o.n!"

Sandy Chipmunk said that if the cat hunted c.o.o.ns, she kept it to herself.

"She's too wise to run any risk," said Grandfather Mole. "But if she's washing her face just because she expects rain, then she's stupid.

"If the cat wants to wash her face, why doesn't she stick her head out in the rain?" Grandfather Mole demanded. And without waiting for his young companion to answer, he went on to say that in his opinion anybody that washed his face in anything but dirt was stupid beyond all hope. "I claim," said Grandfather Mole, "that there's nothing quite like a dirt bath."