As the kitchens were very hot and crowded, Mrs. Faith Spinney had prepared a light lunch of summer salad and mintcream wafers near the gatehouse wall. The workers ate gratefully, some lounging in the sun upon the grass, others sitting on the wallstairs in the shade.

Samkim and Arula sat on the grass with Dingeye and Thura, chuckling gleefully as the stoats recited the catalog of atrocities perpetrated upon them since their arrival.

“On me oath, muckers, I don’t know which was the worstest, starvin’ an’ trampin’ outside or gettin’ dragged in ter this Redhall place. It’s a crool life, I tell yer!”

“Yer right there, Dingeye. Call that ’ospitality, gettin’ near drownded by a fierce waterdog, nearly et by a monster fish, an’ ’avin’ flowery soap stuffed up yer nose. Hah! An’ that’s besides bein’ bopped on the bonnet by a mole with a pole.”

“Yer right, mucker. If I’m not dead with flooenzer from gettin’ a bath by nightfall, me name ain’t stoat!”

Thura shuddered violently and plucked at the sleeves of a clean but much darned smock Foremole had made him put on.

Dingeye waggled a paw in his ear to remove surplus soap. “Phoo! That’s some kind o’ welcome fer two pore stoats, mucker—an’ they burned our good clothes too. Makes yer wonder wot these woodlands is comin’ to. I tell yer, that’s the first bath I’ve took in me life, an’ the last one, too, thank yer kindly!”

Samkim and Arula could hardly eat for laughing, and little Dumble was doubled up with an attack of the giggles.

Samkim poured cider for all. “Hahahaha! What—hahaha—happened then?”

Dingeye quaffed his drink indignantly. “Well may yer ask, mucker. That there longtailed bully of a hotter an’ that savage liddle molefeller dragged us along to the kitchens to ’elp.”

Thura’s mouth was watering. “Aye, the whole place was full of scones, an’ cakes an’ trifles an’ flans an’ puddens an’ custids an’ . . .”

Dingeye took another drink to wash the taste of soap away as he complained bitterly. “But did we get to work among the goodies? Not a frog’s chance, mucker! That fat ol’ Friarmouse took one look at us an’ sniffed. Aye, sniffed, ’e did! Then ’e tells that hotter an’ his pal the Fivemole to put us to scrubbin’ greasy pans clean. Up to our noses in more water—it was ’orrible, awful, I tell yer. Two noble stoats like us, togged up in smocks like a pair o’ dog’s dinners, wipin’ an’ a-scrubbin’ at black pots an’ crusty ol’ bowls. Good job they let us come out ’ere in the fresh air. I was about to throw meself in the sink an’ drown all mizzuble like in that there greasy dishwater!”