"Bide where you be, lad, bide still; 'tis only me—old Mouldiwarp of Arden. You be a bold lad, by my faith, so you be. Never an Arden better. Never an Arden of them all."
"Oh, Mouldiwarp, dear Mouldiwarp, do help me! I led them into this—help me to get them back safe. Do, do, do!"
"So I will, den—dere ain't no reason in getting all of a fluster. It ain't fitten for a lad as 'as faced death same's what you 'ave," said the voice. "I've made a liddle tunnel for 'e—so I 'ave—'ere in dis 'ere corner—you come caten wise crose the floor and you'll feel it. You crawl down it, and outside you be sure enough."
Dickie went towards the voice, and sure enough, as the voice said, there was a hole in the ground, just big enough, it seemed, for him to crawl down on hands and knees.
"I'll go afore," said the Mouldiwarp, "you come arter. Dere's naught to be afeared on, Lord Arden."
"Am I really Lord Arden?" said Dickie, pausing.
"Sure's I'm alive you be," the mole answered; "yer uncle'll tell it you with all de lawyer's reasons to-morrow morning as sure's sure. Come along, den. Dere ain't no time to lose."
So Dickie went down on his hands and knees, and crept down the mole tunnel of soft, sweet-smelling earth, and then along, and then up—and there they were in the courtyard. There, too, were Edred and Elfrida.
The three children hugged each other, and then turned to the Mouldiwarp.
"How can we get home?"