Edred detached himself from Elfrida and stiffened with a resolve to show the Mouldiwarp that he too was not so unlike an Arden as it had too hastily supposed.
“Can’t we get home?” Elfrida asked timidly. “Can’t you make us another white clock, or something?”
“Waste not, want not,” said the mole. “Always wear out your old clocks afore you buys new ’uns. Soon’s he gets off the hand the clock’ll stop; then you can get on it and go safe home.”
“But suppose the King finds us?” said Elfrida.
“He shan’t,” said Betty Lovell. “You open the chalky door, Mouldy, my love, and I’ll keep the King quiet till the young people’s gone home.”
“They’ll duck you for a witch,” said the Mouldiwarp, and it did not seem to mind the familiar way in which Betty spoke to it.
“Well, it’s a warm day,” said Betty; “by the time they get me to the pond you’ll be safe away. And the water’ll be nice and cool.”
“Oh, no,” said Edred and Elfrida together. “You’ll be drowned.” And Edred added, “I couldn’t allow that.”
“Bless your silly little hearts,” said the Mouldiwarp, “she won’t drown. She’ll just get home by the back door, that’s all. There’s a door at the bottom of every pond, if you can only find it.”
So Betty Lovell went out through the chalk to meet the anger of the King, with two kisses on her cheeks.