"Did you find it?" said the Harvest Mouse. She sat at her old station nibbling.
"You beast," said Bartimæus, "you heartless little beast."
The Harvest Mouse drew herself up indignant.
"You're blinder than I thought," she said.
"It was a mean trick," muttered Bartimæus.
"It was a good turn," said the Harvest Mouse.
"Now listen, for I know this meadow end to end. It is no place for Moles. Ask the red-coated Meadow Mouse. Ask the Pygmy Shrew. Ask any one who really knows. Worse things than dogs come into it."
"Weasels!" said the Meadow Mouse
"Weasels!" said the Meadow Mouse. "Oh, never wait for weasels in a run. I really thought that you were one behind me." This to Bartimæus.