The Mouldiwarp giggled. “My child, what presumption! The clock is much too big for you to see ever—all at once. The sun’s the centre of it. This is just a pretending clock. It’ll do for what we want, of course, or I wouldn’t have had it made for you. Sit down on the second hand—oh no, it won’t hurt the daisies. Count a hundred—yes, that’s right.”
They sat down on the close, white line of daisies and began to count earnestly.
“And now,” the Mouldiwarp said, when the hundred was counted, “it’s just the same time as it was when you began! So now you understand.”
They said they did, and I am sure I hope you do.
“But if we sit here,” said Elfrida, “how can we ever be anywhere else?”
“You can’t,” said the Mouldiwarp. “So one of you will have to stay and the other to go.”
“You go, Elfie,” said Edred. “I’ll stay till you come back.”
“That’s very dear of you,” said Elfrida, “but I’d rather we went together. Can’t you manage it?” she asked the mole.
“I could, of course,” it said; “but . . . he’s afraid to go without you,” it said suddenly.
“He isn’t, and he’s two years younger than me, anyway,” Elfrida said hotly.