Grandfather Mole turned pale at the mere thought of such a thing.
"I—I'd no idea I was talking to a monster," he stammered. "I don't believe I want to dig for you, after all." And saying a hasty good afternoon, he popped through his doorway and vanished at Billy Woodchuck's feet.
Greatly disappointed, Billy Woodchuck turned homewards. "I'd have been in a pretty fix if he had finished my house, and I had tried to move my furniture into it," he muttered. "It's lucky I asked to see a sample of Grandfather Mole's work," said Billy Woodchuck.
XXIV
FOLLOWING THE PLOUGH
A good many of Grandfather Mole's neighbors sneered at him, and said he was queer. Mr. Blackbird was one of these scoffers. Though he was a lazy scamp, he always managed to look sleek and well fed. And he liked the same fare that Grandfather Mole did.
"You're a goose to work so hard for your food," Mr. Blackbird jeered one fine spring day as he sat on the garden fence and looked down at Grandfather Mole. "You ought to change your habits. Just look at me! I get plenty to eat. And I do precious little digging for it, believe[p. 113] me! I tell you, there's a better way than yours!"
Naturally, Grandfather Mole couldn't look at Mr. Blackbird. But he raised his head in his odd fashion.