But Tiny only ran on like lead.
So the little woolly white dog pretended he'd driven him off, and walked across the road and back very stiff on his toes, to try to take the cat in. But the cat just sat on the wall, and blinked instead.
Then Tiny pounded down the hill with his heart in his heels.
And the hedges on either side looked like crawly purple caterpillars with grey-green leper splotches where the privet grew; and a plump little wren flitted in and out before him as he ran, mocking; while the Pond on the Common beneath winked each time the wind blew, like a leering great eye.
And Tiny loathed them all.
So he ran across the little Bridge, and round the Wood, where the beeches flushed among the grey of the ashes, and across the Common among the gorse, till he came to Cosy Cottage.
And the sun shone on it; and the sparrows chirped in the creepers; and mannikin sang in the boot-hole at the back; and Phyllis was at the door polishing the knocker; and even the Others were leaning out of upstairs, pretending with dusters, while they tried to carry on with the King, who was cleaning the Castle-window round the corner; while the Queen scowled from the wash-tub.
And when Tiny saw all that, and remembered Baby singing so happy that morning, his heart stopped dead. And he stood with his hand on the gate, and just looked.
Then the door burst open, and out rushed Baby in an apron, with a scream and a scurry, yelling,
"O, Tiny! what do you think?"