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 Instead, she felt several tugs and pulls from behind, and she found herself dragged backwards right through the hedge, and rolled gently on to the ground.

She could still hear the angry voices on the other side of the hedge, but she could also hear a voice she knew quite well, very close to her, saying

“Now then, sharp’s the word. Fill the gap up before they find out where she’s gone.”

She rubbed her eyes, sat up, and stared in wonder.

Her old friend Thirteen-fourteenths was working hard, stuffing straw, grass, branches, rubbish of all kinds into the hedge, to fill up the hole she had been pulled through; and standing round him, helping, were her own animals, the horses holding branches in their mouths, the sheep fetching grass, the rooks carrying bits of all kinds, all helping as hard as they could.

“We’re so glad to see you,” whispered the Violets, curtseying, and the tall pink Foxglove made his very best bow.

Lucy felt almost inclined to cry. They were all helping her, glad to see her, and she had been thinking she was tired of them, she had been wishing to leave some of them out.

“Dear friends,” she said.

“There,” whispered Thirteen-fourteenths, “now come up the the road. We’ll get safely to the cross-roads once more, and then we can talk comfortably. Do you hear them?”

There were still shouts coming from the other side of the hedge, not angry shouts, but shouts of wonder, surprise, and bewilderment, “Where is she? Where has she gone? Where’s Lucy?”

“Come,” said Thirteen-fourteenths, “quickly and quietly.”

And once more the party crept back along the road, scarcely making a sound, not speaking a word.

When they reached the sign-post Lucy sank down beside it. She wanted to thank them all, but she was very tired, and the procession did not wait to be thanked. Mr. Snip bowed, the animals each in their own way said “Farewell,” the Violets curtseyed, and 107