"Tell me"—Grandfather Mole besought her—"has he a neck?"
Mrs. Wren glanced at the small person whose breakfast she had interrupted.
"Yes, he has one," she reported.
"Then he's no relation of mine," Grandfather Mole said. "Or at least, he's no more than a distant cousin. And I don't even know him." He was relieved to learn that his grandson Moses Mole was not wandering about the garden, after all. "Maybe you never stopped to think that none of our family have necks—so far as you can notice."
And now Mrs. Wren looked at Grandfather Mole. And she saw that his head was set right on his shoulders.
"I was mistaken," she faltered. "I'm[p. 101] sorry if I upset you about your grandson."
"It doesn't matter now," Grandfather Mole assured her. "To be sure, I was alarmed. And when you said he wouldn't mind I was sure it was Moses.
"Children," said Grandfather Mole, "are not brought up as strictly as they were when I was young."