Mole and Shrew All Year Through
Mole put on his scarf and boots. With a last, longing look at the crackling fire, he stepped out
into the storm.

Wind tugged at Mole’s scarf and whistled past his ears. Snowflakes landed on his eyelashes
and stuck to his whiskers. But Mole trudged on, warming himself on the inside with thoughts
of fresh tarts, hot from the oven.

At last Mole pushed through the door of the grocery store. He shook a cap of snow from his
head.

"Why, hello there," said Badger, the store keeper. "What brings you out on such a day?"

"Tarts," said Mole.

"What kind of tarts?" asked Badger.

"New Year’s Eve tarts, of course," said Mole. "Everyone makes tarts on New Year’s Eve."

Badger looked surprised. "Really?" he said. "I didn't know."

Mole leaned in closer. "To be truthful," he said, "neither did I. But Shrew says it’s so, so it
must be."

"Indeed," said Badger, nodding thoughtfully. "Shrew is a most truthful creature."

"You might think about making some tarts yourself," said Mole. "You wouldn’t want to be left
out."

"No, indeed," Badger agreed. "No one likes to be left out."