as an overgrown bean-patch, but she liked to hear the Lion talk about it; he put everything in such a poetic light that it really sounded quite attractive. She wandered off now among the potatoes, hoping that the lion would change his mind and follow her, as he had done many times before, but he didn’t. Anna was too proud to call him, so she blundered on and on, feeling that her evening was completely spoiled, and presently got lost among the potato vines for her pains, which served her right.
Meantime, quite a large hole had been dug under the stone, but there was so far nothing to show. Bulka’s paws were blistered from digging; he was all for giving up the job and trying somewhere else, but the Money-Pig would not hear of this. The mere thought of treasure excited him, and as his legs were too short for him to dig himself he felt quite safe in giving orders to the others.
“Remember,” he kept shouting, “I am the guardian of this treasure. I order you to keep on digging till you find it.”
“In Tubbyland,” Tubby began in her squeaky voice, “whenever there is treasure it’s always buried under big stones, and there’s heaps and heaps of it, and whoever finds it it belongs to all of them, and as soon as ever you start digging—”
“I’m sick of hearing about Tubbyland,” said Bulka, sucking his paws that had begun to smart. “I wish Tubbyland had never been invented!”
