“Choose your period,” said the mole wearily.
“Choose——?”
“Your period. What time you’d like to go back to. If you don’t choose before I’ve counted ten it’s all off. One, two, three, four——”
It counted ten through a blank silence.
“Nine, ten,” it ended. “Oh, very well, den, you’ll have to take your luck, that’s all.”
“Bother!” said Edred. “I couldn’t think of anything except all the dates of all the kings of England all at once.”
“Lucky to know ’em,” said the mole, and so plainly not believing that he did know them that Edred found himself saying under his breath, “William the First, 1066; William the Second, 1087; Henry the First, 1100.”
The mole yawned, which, of course, was very rude of it.
“Don’t be cross, dear,” said Elfrida again; “you help us your own way.”
“Now you’re talking,” said the mole, which, of course, Elfrida knew. “Well, I’ll give you a piece of advice. Don’t you be nasty to each other for a whole day, and then——”