Master Meadow Mouse couldn't help feeling guilty. Still, he hoped he hadn't made as great a mistake as Uncle Billy would have him believe.
"I've heard," he ventured, "that Peter Mink can squeeze through any hole that's big enough for his head. But surely he couldn't get even his flat head into one of our passages."
"He can burrow in the snow!" Uncle Billy snapped. "He can and he will. He'll come sniffing and listening all around here. And when he finds a likely spot to dig, down he'll go through drifts and crusts until he reaches the stubble." Uncle Billy shook his head and drew a long breath. "Young man," he said, "you've got us into a peck of trouble. This whole village has to move. Don't let it happen again!"
By that time others of the villagers had gathered round and heard the news. Of course the news spread fast. And in a surprisingly short while the Meadow Mouse family was on its way to the mill pond.
Everybody set to work—everybody except Uncle Billy Meadow Mouse. He was busy telling all the rest what to do, though he didn't help half as much as he thought he did.
But every one was polite to him, for he was the oldest Meadow Mouse on the farm.
It wasn't long before they had everything snug again. And as for Master Meadow Mouse, he was actually glad that he had made the whole village move. For Paddy Muskrat lived in the mill pond. He spent all his time there when he wasn't taking excursions up the brook. And Master Meadow Mouse found him the best of company.
Especially did Master Meadow Mouse like to hear Paddy Muskrat slap his tail upon the water, when he gave the danger signal.
