One morning Thumbelina was doing her chores.
"Sweep the floor slowly," Mrs. Gray corrected.
"Or you'll make too much dust."
Then Mrs. Gray looked up at the clock on the wall.
She smiled to herself in a strange way.
Suddenly there was a short knock at the back door.
"It's Mr. Rufus!" exclaimed Mrs. Gray as she opened the door.
Mr. Rufus was a large, brown mole.
Like most moles, Mr. Rufus could not see very well.
So he wore very thick glasses.
He walked into the room holding a cane.
"Good day, Mrs. Gray," he said in a deep voice.
"You were kind to invite me for tea."
Mrs. Gray laughed in an unusually high voice.
"Oh, Mr. Rufus, we are delighted that you could come.
This is Thumbelina."
"Mrs. Gray is acting strangely," thought Thumbelina.
"I'll get the tea," said Mrs. Gray in a sweet voice.
"Thumbelina will stay here and chat with you, Mr. Rufus."
As she was leaving, Mrs. Gray whispered to Thumbelina,
"Mr. Rufus is a fine gentleman.
And he is very rich.
Be kind to him."
Thumbelina sat next to Mr. Rufus.
He did not speak.
"I hope winter is almost over," Thumbelina said.
"Winter is never long enough," said Mr. Rufus with a grunt.
"But it's so cold," said Thumbelina.
"Not where I live," said Mr. Rufus, and he grunted again.
"I live in the deepest hole around here."
"But isn't that too far underground?
You can't see—," Thumbelina glanced at his thick glasses.
"I mean, you wouldn't feel the sunshine.
Or hear the birds."
"Bah!" Mr. Rufus waved his hand.
"Who needs sunshine?
And birds are horrible.
They're messy. They steal food."
Thumbelina thought about Pete, Kris, and Maggie.
"I don't agree with you, sir," she said.
"I have bird friends.
They are very kind.
They taught me many songs."
Mr. Rufus turned his head toward Thumbelina.
"Sing one," he said.
"Oh, I couldn't." Thumbelina blushed.
"Bah! You mean you can't," the mole said.
"I'm not surprised.
Nothing good comes from birds."
"That's not true," said Thumbelina.
"I'll sing you a song."
Thumbelina began singing softly.
Her voice rose sweetly.
She was thinking of how much she missed Mrs. Marigold.
Mr. Rufus started to smile.
"It's working," Mrs. Gray said, watching from the kitchen.
"Mrs. Gray was right," thought Mr. Rufus.
"Thumbelina has the loveliest voice.
Yes, she will make a good wife for me."
Thumbelina was not thinking of the mole or the mouse.
Her song was taking her back home.
So she just kept singing.