Chapter IV

They dug away till almost noon,
With spade and hoe and great big spoon.
And Towser dug at a wee round hole,
Pretending that he smelt a mole.

The hours sped by as if on wings;
Swift goes the day that pleasure brings.
And deep they dug the mellow soil,
And raked it smooth with patient toil.

The noon bell rang; they cried, “Look here!
See how we’re digging, mother, dear!
We’re nearly through. It can’t be noon!
Keep dinner hot; we’ll be there soon!”