I was in the clearing tied to the same tree, but about me sat circle after circle of little rabbits, pestering, teasing, tormenting me. They told me what they thought of us moles, and in no gentle style either.«
»But I hardly understand,« questioned Goodwife. »Now Mole here ate two nestlings, and had a right to such a dream, but surely you, Doctor Mole, would never—« and she went no further. Doctor Mole looked down, and his fingers crumbled a bit of seed cake nervously into his raspberry pudding.
»It’s hard to admit it, but I ate the other two fledglings,« he said. »The little rabbits were too quick for me. All I could see of them were the little tails flicking away in the grasses. But I guess we Moles had better keep to fruit and grains, and let our neighbors and their children alone.«
No one spoke a minute, then Goodwife laughed. »Well, you cured each other by tricking each other, at least,« she said. »You, Doctor, ordered something to keep Old Mole out of the way. And you, good man, only prescribed that which had cured you, as you thought. But really those dreams did the real curing. That I know. How about another slice of apple tart, or will you try the noodle and mushroom soup first, Doctor Mole?«
