“Oh!” cried Elfrida, throwing herself down on the turf, “it’s too good to be true. I can’t believe it.”
“What I can’t believe,” said Edred, doing likewise, “is that precious mole.”
“But we saw it,” said Elfrida; “you can’t help believing things when you’ve seen them.”
“I can,” said Edred, superior. “You remember the scarlet toadstools in ‘Hereward.’ Suppose those peppermint creams were enchanted—to make us dream things.”
“They were good,” said Elfrida. “I say!”
“Well?”
“Have you made up any poetry to call the mole with?”
“Have you?”
“No; I’ve tried, though.”
“I’ve tried. And I’ve done it.”