Ernest Elf (7) and last
Ernest woke up at the fine hour of twelve o´clock. The minute he sat up on the sofa Mrs. Spencer put the kettle on. In fifteen minutes Mrs. Spencer was in to him with a tray carrying a good breakfast. “Thank you very much but I´d like to get a move on before Little Laura Long gets here.”
“Well she´s already been and went so you can relax and enjoy your breakfast.” replied Mrs. Spencer. “What are you saying? that can´t be, what did you say to her? she has a keen sense of smell, she would have smelt me in here.” said Ernest confusedly.
“Well you don´t have to worry about her any longer, I sorted out everything.”
“Not violently I hope, no offence but you have a bit of a reputation in these parts.”
“Just trust me, you have nothing to worry about.”
Ernest persisted. His reporter instinct was wide awake. He had to know how she did it.
He asked a ream of questions and pulled out his notebook from the inside pocket of his jacket. Mrs. Spencer muttered. “I think I´ve had enough of this,” she nudged the carpet bag with her slippers. The mole jumped out and ran across the sofa. He stopped behind the head of Ernest. “Hello there, “ said Ernest. The mole leaned over and whispered something in his ear. In no time at all Ernest was thanking Mrs. Spencer wholeheartedly and gathering his things together. Before he got into his truck he resowed all the flowers and then waved a grateful goodbye and set off in his truck.
It was windy outside, Mrs. Spencer waved, pulled her shawl around her and shut the door. She rolled her eyes to heaven and said to the mole. “Elves – they´re such a sensitive and serious lot, I don´t know about you but I´m going back to bed.”
Meanwhile Ernest was singing along to some song on the radio and driving over the speed limit. He suddenly stopped. The breaks shrieked. He opened the door. “Hop in, it isn´t really a day for walking. What´s your name?” He said. Little Laura Long jumped in and as she slammed the door shut a gust of wind blew Ernest´s wig onto the dashboard. He caught it and fixed it back on his head. “Sorry about that.” said the calculating voice of Little Laura Long. Her beady eyes peered at his pointy ears.