Sister Sloey watched a crew of moles carrying ladders out of the Abbey. “They’ve finished fixing all the windowpanes, Cregga marm.”

The blind Badgermum nodded fondly. “At last Redwall is restored to its former glory, and our beautiful tapestry will soon be back where it belongs. I can stand in the center of Great Hall and feel it, I know I can!”

Gurrbowl placed another full jar to one side. “Hurr, et be’d a long job awroight. This day’s ee larst day of season boi moi reckernin’.”

Rimrose looked up from her work. “The last day of summer? Surely not. You said that Song and her friends would be back by then, Cregga.”

The blind badger pulled the stalk from an apple and began slicing it expertly. “That’s what my dream told me, Rimrose. Maybe summer has a few more days to run yet. Are you sure your calculations are right, Gurrbowl?”

The molewife nodded solemnly. “Thurr bain’t no mustakes in moi calyoocayshuns, marm!”

Ellayo reassured Gurrbowl hastily. “Oh, we ain’t questionin’ yore reckonin’, marm. Matter o’ fact, summer does seem to have gone on quite long this season. Oh, by the way, has anybeast seen mister Florian an’ the Dibbuns today? They was ’aunting us yesterday, pinchin’ nuts an’ dabbin’ their paws in our ’oney, gettin’ up to all sorts o’ roguery they were. Wonder where they’ve gotten to?”

Deesum nodded in the direction of Mossflower Wood. “Berrypickin’. I heard mister Janglur and mister Rusvul say at breakfast that they’d go along with Florian to keep an eye on the Dibbuns. Huh! Rather them than us, I say. Imagine having charge of that lot in the woodlands. I’ll wager they come back filthy, with their smocks all snagged and ripped!”

Rimrose poured honey into a jar, chuckling. “Mister Florian’ll be glad to get Dwopple and his gang back here, I should imagine. Is that them now, coming in the main gate? Dearie me, just look at the state they’re in!”

A band of Dibbuns charged across the lawn, stained red and purple with berry juice. Janglur and Rusvul followed, towing a cartload of baskets. Florian followed up, breathlessly trying to take a headcount of the Abbeybabes.

“Five, six, seven, be still, y’blighters, wot! Come back here, back I say, young sirs an’ missies, line up correctly! Oh, confound the blighters, I’ve gone an’ lost count again. Er, three, four, five . . . Stop dodgin’ about there, Dwopple, I’ve gone an’ counted you twice again. You should be five, or was it four? No, three, that’s right. Now, three, four, five.”

Sister Sloey took a correct count as the Dibbuns ran toward her. “Mister Florian sir, I’ve got a count, there’s twenty-two in all. Is that how many you went out with?”