"This is fine!" he said to himself. "This is better than whitewashing!"
He bounded joyfully across the meadow, till he reached a gap in the hedge, pushing past an elderly rabbit who said "Sixpence for using our private road!"
As he crossed the fields, he suddenly came out on the bank of a River.
He had never seen one before. The water was full of life and movement, glints and gleams and sparkles, chatter and bubble.
The Mole trotted along beside it, fascinated, until he was tired out.
He sat down on the grassy bank and listened to the sound of the water. As he looked at the opposite bank, he saw a dark hole. Something bright and small twinkled in it. It winked, and he saw it was an eye! Then a small face appeared.