Chapter IX
YOU ARE NOT INVITED
“We must make dummies of grass,” Poor Cecco said, “and set them up, so that the rats will think they are us, and then we can escape before they find out that they have been tricked!”
“They aren’t so stupid as all that!” returned Jensina, who was both tired and cross.
“Very well,” said Poor Cecco, “if you can think of something better perhaps you’ll say so. I’m not anxious to stay here all night!”
At that very instant an automobile, coming along the road, slowed down just by the spot where the three friends were seated. The driver got out and went forward to attend to his engine, and in the moment that his back was turned Poor Cecco made a hasty sign to Bulka and Jensina. Hopping forward, they were just in time to scramble on to the running-board before the driver returned to his seat and the car started on.
“Where are we going?” said Bulka.
“It doesn’t matter where we go,” Poor Cecco replied, “so long as we get away from the rats, and they certainly can’t follow us now.”
“All right!” said Bulka. And being very drowsy, and tired out with the excitement of the day, he at once shut his eyes and went to sleep.
When he awoke the car had stopped again, and Poor Cecco and Jensina, one on each side, were shaking him violently to make him open his eyes.
“Oh, I thought it was morning!” said Bulka, as soon as he could speak. “Where are we? What are we going to do now?”
“Sh-sh!” said Poor Cecco. “Keep very quiet and follow us!”
Carrying the bundle, and giving a paw to Jensina, who was stiff and cramped from sitting so long on the running-board, he led them across the road and under a gate into an open field.
“I don’t see,” said Jensina, staring about her, “why you brought us here!”
Poor Cecco had no answer to make, for he did not know himself. The field was immense and mountainous and very lonely, lit by a slender moon rising above the hillside. There were great mounds here and there, and twisting bushes that stood out black in the moonlight, like crouching beasts. Everything looked strange and rather terrible, so that even Poor Cecco’s courage began to fail him a little, and he wondered whether after all it wouldn’t be better to go back to the road. But here they were, and they must make the best of it, come what might. And while they were still looking about them, wondering which way to go, there was a great whirring of wings, and something dark and huge swept down on them from the sky, striking at Bulka and rolling him over and over on the ground.
Terror seized them; Jensina gave a shriek, but before Poor Cecco could spring to the rescue Bulka had picked himself up again, and there on the grass before them stood an enormous owl, rolling his eyes and looking exactly like a sulky cat.
“How dare you!” cried Poor Cecco.
“How dare I?” exclaimed the owl. “How about him? What business has any one to go about looking like a rabbit? I couldn’t tell! And besides, I didn’t hurt him.”
“You did!” squealed Bulka, finding his voice again after fright. “You p-pinched me!”
“Cry baby!” said the owl, contemptuously. He rolled his green eyes at them. “What are you doing in this field? You aren’t real rabbits, any of you! Let me tell you at once, that if you think you can come here under false pretences, and put other people out of business, you’re mistaken! I’m the Field-Marshal. I won’t stand any nonsense!”
“We are travellers,” said Jensina shrilly, thrusting herself forward. “We came by automobile, and we have just as much right to be here as you. We are looking for a place to spend the night.”
“Spend it or keep it,” returned the owl. “It’s all one to me. You can suit yourselves. But as for that person”—pointing with his claw at Bulka—“he’d better wear a label if he doesn’t want to get into trouble again.”
“Insufferable creature!” declared Jensina, as the owl flapped heavily away across the field. “I can’t stand owls; they are all the same. Look!” she exclaimed, pointing across the pasture. “Something is going on over there!”
Something certainly was going on. One of the many hummocks in the field was hung about with twinkling lights, green and pale and golden, and as they drew near they could see that these were countless glowwormy lanterns, hung artfully from the grass blades. The effect was both elegant and festive; the whole hummock was a blaze of coloured light, and beside the doorway stood a placard with the words:
GRAND FRATERNITY BALL
Second Order of Moles
YOU ARE INVITED
“A ball! We must go to this!” cried Jensina, who had lived so long in retirement that the mere prospect of a party made her forget all her weariness. “I adore dancing, but if it is a formal affair I suppose I had better put on my frock!”
And snatching the bundle from Poor Cecco she hastily unrolled it to get out her dress. She was so anxious to get to the party that she could not even wait to have the frock fastened, but began hopping towards the doorway with one arm thrust through the wrong sleeve hole. “Let us in!” she cried, and pounded on the door with her fist. “Let us in! We want to dance!”
The door swung open, and a mole, dressed in black velvet, stood on the threshold. He was plainly one of the ushers, for he wore a white flower in his buttonhole and pink kid gloves.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“We want to dance,” said Jensina, still struggling with her frock, which being hindside before, refused to go over her head.
“Have you an invitation?” asked the mole.
“Certainly we are invited,” returned Poor Cecco, and he pointed to the placard.
“Ah!” said the mole. Stepping outside, he turned the placard round so as to show the other side. It now read, in large clear letters:
YOU ARE NOT INVITED
And without so much as a further glance at them he went back into the molehill and slammed the door.
“Mean hateful thing!” exclaimed Jensina, ready to cry with disappointment. “Who wants to go to their old ball anyhow!” And pulling off her frock again she flung it away and sat down hard on the grass, looking very proud and sniffly.
“Never mind,” said Poor Cecco. “I don’t suppose it’s much of a dance after all! When we get home, Jensina, we’ll have a great ball and only invite whom we want, and there’ll be lemonade and a cake with icing, and you shall dance all night long!”
But Jensina was not to be comforted so easily; her pride had been hurt, and moreover she could still hear faintly, through the closed door of the molehill, the scraping of fiddles and the shuffling of feet. So she continued to sit there, sulking on the grass, and to judge by her expression it was far wiser to leave her alone.
As for Bulka, he was dropping with sleep, so Poor Cecco propped him up against Jensina, with the bundle beside them, and set off alone to search for a night’s lodging.
