And instantly there was the white mole.
“What do you want now?” it said very crossly indeed. “And call that poetry?”
“It’s the first I ever made,” said Elfrida, of the hot ears. “Perhaps it’ll be better next time.”
“We want you to do what the spell says,” said Edred.
“Make you brave and wise? That can’t be done all in a minute. That’s a long job, that is,” said the mole viciously.
“Don’t be so cross, dear,” said Elfrida; “and if it’s going to be so long hadn’t you better begin?”
“I ain’t agoin’ to do no more’n my share,” said the mole, somewhat softened though, perhaps by the “dear.” “You tell me what you want, and p’raps I’ll do it.”
“I know what I want,” said Edred, “but I don’t know whether you can do it.”
“Ha!” laughed the mole contemptuously.
“I got it out of a book Elfrida got on my birthday,” Edred said. “The children in it went into the past. I’d like to go into the past—and find that treasure!”