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Tale of Grandfather Mole (version 2)

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<h2>XX</h2> <h3>A SIGN OF RAIN</h3> Over near the garden fence lay an old hollow log. Grandfather Mole discovered it one day; and thinking that it would be a fine place to look for grubs and other good things, he crept into one end of it. If he had been able to see, near the other end of the log, a pair of bright eyes that peered at him out of the darkness perhaps he would have backed out in a hurry. But it was all right. The owner of the two eyes was only Sandy Chipmunk. And he spoke pleasantly to Grandfather Mole, in a soft sort of chatter, because he didn't want to alarm him. "Good afternoon!" said Grandfather Mole. At Sandy's first word he had jumped. But as soon as he knew who was in the log with him he felt safe enough. "What are you doing here, young man?" Grandfather inquired. "I came in to get out of the rain," Sandy told him. "Rain!" Grandfather Mole exclaimed. "It's not raining!" "I know that. But it's going to," Sandy Chipmunk replied. "There's not the least sign of rain," Grandfather Mole declared. Being older than Sandy, he didn't hesitate to dispute what Sandy said. And he never troubled himself to apologize, either. Sandy Chipmunk noticed that, for he had been carefully reared by his mother. But he knew that Grandfather Mole was considered an odd old gentleman. And besides, what could Sandy have said that wouldn't have sounded rude? "There's not a sign of rain," Grandfather Mole repeated, "so far as I can see." "How far can you see?" Sandy inquired politely. "Tut, tut!" said Grandfather Mole. "What I mean is that I haven't noticed anything that foretells rain. For instance, I haven't had a twinge of rheumatism since I don't know when." "Well, I'm glad of that, anyhow," Sandy assured him. "But I saw a sign of rain to-day that perhaps you never noticed." "What was that?" "Farmer Green's cat was washing her face on the doorsteps," Sandy explained triumphantly. "It's a sure sign of rain. My mother has never known it to fail." "Farmer Green's cat!" Grandfather Mole repeated after him. And he shuddered as he spoke. "Don't you know that she's not a trustworthy person? You surely don't depend on her, I hope! She's not dependable." "Well, you can always depend on her to jump at you," Sandy observed. "She's a coward—that's what she is," Grandfather Mole scolded. "You never heard of her chasing anybody that was bigger than herself, did you? You never heard of her attacking Fatty Coon!" Sandy Chipmunk said that if the cat hunted coons, she kept it to herself. "She's too wise to run any risk," said Grandfather Mole. "But if she's washing her face just because she expects rain, then she's stupid. "If the cat wants to wash her face, why doesn't she stick her head out in the rain?" Grandfather Mole demanded. And without waiting for his young companion to answer, he went on to say that in his opinion anybody that washed his face in anything but dirt was stupid beyond all hope. "I claim," said Grandfather Mole, "that there's nothing quite like a dirt bath." "There aren't many that would agree with you," Sandy Chipmunk told him. "There's a lot of stupid people in this valley," Grandfather Mole retorted. Sandy Chipmunk thought deeply for a few moments. "I know of one person who would say you were right," he remarked at last. "Who's that?" Grandfather asked him. "The boy, Johnnie Green!" Sandy Chipmunk replied. "If you could see his face you'd know that he takes a dirt bath every day!" <hr class="chapter" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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