“THE MOULDIWARP MADE A LITTLE RUN AND A LITTLE JUMP, AND ELFRIDA CAUGHT IT.”
So they turned across the summer fields to Arden Castle. There seemed to be more of the castle than when the children had first seen it, and it was tidier, much. And on the doorstep sat a white mole.
“There now!” said Elfrida. The mole vanished like a streak of white paint that is rubbed out.
“Pooh!” said Lord Arden. “There’s plenty white moles in the world.”
But when he saw the white mole sitting up in his own carved arm-chair in the parlour, he owned that it was very unusual.
Elfrida stooped and held out her arms. She was extremely glad to see the mole. Because ever since she and her brother had come into this strange time she had felt that it would be the greatest possible comfort to have the mole at hand—the mole, who understood everything, to keep and advise; and, above all, to get them safely back into the century they belonged to.
And the Mouldiwarp made a little run and a little jump, and Elfrida caught it and held it against her waist with both her hands.
“Stay with me,” whispered Elfrida to the mole.
“By George!” said Lord Arden to the universe.
“So now you see,” said Edred to Lord Arden.