“Stop that!” said Granny Fox sharply. “Do you want all the neighbors to know that we have got to move? They'll find it out soon enough. Now come along without any more fuss. If you don't, I'll just go off and leave you to shift for yourself. Then how will you get anything to eat?”
Reddy Fox wiped his eyes on his coat sleeve and hobbled along as best he could. Granny Fox would run a little way ahead to see that the way was safe and then come back for Reddy. Poor Reddy. He did his best not to complain, but it was such hard work. And somehow Reddy Fox didn't believe that it was at all necessary. He had been terribly frightened when he had disobeyed Granny Fox that afternoon and put his head out the door, only to look right into the freckled face of Farmer Brown's boy. He had ducked back out of sight again too quickly for Farmer Brown's boy to shoot, and now he couldn't see why old Granny Fox wanted to move that very night.
“She's getting old. She's getting old and timid and fussy,” muttered Reddy Fox, as he hobbled along behind her.
It seemed to Reddy as if they had walked miles and miles. He really thought that they had been walking nearly all night when old Granny Fox stopped in front of the worst-looking old fox house Reddy had ever seen.
“Here we are!” said she.
“What! Are we going to live in that thing?” cried Reddy. “It isn't fit for any respectable fox to put his nose into.”
“It is where I was born!” snapped old Granny Fox. “If you want to keep out of harm's way, don't go to putting on airs now.
“Who scorns the simple things of life
And tilts his nose at all he sees,
Is almost sure to feel the knife
Of want cut through his pleasant ease.
“Now don't let me hear another word from you, but get inside at once!”
Reddy Fox didn't quite understand all Granny Fox said, but he knew when she was to be obeyed, and so he crawled gingerly through the broken-down doorway.