Chapter 21

MRS. WREN TRIES TO HELP



"HAVE you found him yet?" Mrs. Rusty Wren asked Grandfather Mole one day when the old gentleman had left his dark underground home to brave the dangers of the garden.

"Found whom?" Grandfather Mole inquired.

"Why, your grandson! I saw him wandering about the garden a little while ago. And I supposed of course that you had come up to find him."

"Now, that's strange!" Grandfather Mole exclaimed. "I wasn't aware one of them had strayed away from the house.... Which of my grandchildren was it that you saw!"

"I don't know them by name," Mrs. Wren replied. "But this was just a tiny chap."

"Then it must be my little grandson Moses!" Grandfather Mole cried. "He's the smallest of the lot.... I must find him at once, before the cat catches him."

Mrs. Wren saw that Grandfather Mole was greatly disturbed. And though she had enough to do--goodness knows!--to look after her own family, she told Grandfather Mole that she would help him find his grandchild.

"That's kind of you, I'm sure," Grandfather Mole remarked. "If I had your bright eyes I wouldn't need anybody's help."

"Oh, you're welcome!" Mrs. Wren assured him. "I shouldn't want a youngster of mine walking about the garden alone. I'm glad to do what I can. And meanwhile you had better stay close to that hole, for there's no need of your running any risks. If I can't find young Moses Mole, then nobody can."

Grandfather Mole said she was very kind and that he would take her advice. So he stationed himself beside the hole through which he had lately appeared and waited there while Rusty Wren's wife looked for his grandson.

She was a quick, spry little body--was Mrs. Wren. It wasn't long before she surprised the object of her search in the act of eating a fat grub beside a pumpkin.

"Here he is!" Mrs. Wren called to Grandfather Mole. "I've found him. Do you want to come and get him, or shall I bring him to you?"

"You'd better bring him," Grandfather Mole answered. And anybody could see that he was vastly relieved.

A little later Mrs. Wren called to him again.

"What shall I do?" she asked. "He won't mind me. And he's too heavy for me to carry."

"That's Moses, without a doubt!" Grandfather Mole declared. "Yes! If he won't mind, it's certainly my grandson Moses. He's the littlest of the family; and his mother has always spoiled him.... I suppose"--Grandfather Mole added--"I suppose I'll have to go and get him."

"Wait a moment!" Mrs. Wren suddenly sang out. "There's some mistake. This little fellow says his name isn't Moses!"

Well, Grandfather