"You know, Mousemole," Tad was musing, "It would be ever so much nicer if I had fur. Even a small patch of the dullest, scantiest sort would satisfy. For if I had fur, then I should not be considered so very different."

"Mousemole is different, yes, indeed he is," the squeaky voice patiently reminded, though he had heard this same furless complaint of Tad's often of late, and was actually growing quite tired of it. "Mousemole doesn't mind being different, no he doesn't."

"But it's not the same for you, Mousemole," Tad insisted. "You may be different from the Hairywinkles you live among, but you know that other creatures such as yourself must exist someplace. Why, if you hadn't become separated from your family when you were a baby, and wandered into our village, you would still be living with your own kind." Tad sighed profoundly and shook his head most gloomily. "No, Mousemole," he said sadly, "It is painfully clear that I am the only Hairywinkle of my kind."

"If Tad is always going to feel so badly about himself, perhaps he should go have a talk with Old Hermit Hairywinkle. Old Hermit knows all there is to know, yes he does. If there is any way for Tad to grow fur, Old Hermit will know, yes he will."

Mousemole spoke with assurance, but Tad was doubtful. While many spoke evil of the aged Hairywinkle, Mousemole clung stubbornly to his high opinion of the one labeled Old Hermit, and would listen to no negative statement about his unconventional friend.

Mousemole's strange relationship with Old Hermit Hairywinkle was something Tad didn't understand. Indeed, it was something that rather shocked and, it must be admitted, frightened the young Hairywinkle.

Old Hermit, you see, had lived longer than any other Hairywinkle and there were none now living that remembered the true story of his strange life. So it was that many wild, and untrue tales had been invented about him. But none of those tales came near the truth, which was a rather simple story, but not very flattering to the Hairywinkle folk; no doubt part of the reason the true series of events surrounding Old Hermit Hairywinkle had not been passed down from one generation to the next.

Long ago, longer ago than any other living Hairywinkle could remember, Old Hermit Hairywinkle, who wasn't old at the time, had left his home loving relatives and set off on his own to explore the world. Many seasons passed, so many, in fact, that his fellow Hairywinkles gave up expecting his return, and many actually forgot about him.

But, of course, the traveler had returned, bringing with him all sorts of odd belongings, quite foreign to the Hairywinkles. What was worse, he brought with him even odder tales that shocked and frightened the others of his kind, who were, and still are by nature, a quiet and non-adventuresome lot. So fearful had many of the older Hairywinkles become that the younger generation would catch the wanderlust, that they began cautioning the children to stay away from Hermit Hairywinkle, called by a different name then, a name that has long since been forgotten. Hurt and angered by this ill and unjust treatment, the returned explorer stormed out of the valley, vowing to never again seek out the companionship of his own kind.

When it was learned that he had moved to a large cave miles away from the other Hairywinkles, the returned traveler became even more of an oddity. It was beyond their understanding why anyone should choose to live next to the shore of a great body of undrinkable salt water. Such unproductive land with such a vast body of useless water was, to the other Hairywinkles, a most frightening and unnatural place to even visit, but to live there was, to their way of thinking, a sign of utter madness.

The self-elected outcast had been spied from a distance now and again down through the years as he made his journey to and from his small garden patch just outside of the valley. But, as far as anyone knew, he had never spoken another word to any of his fellow Hairywinkles. Such a solitary, silent existence had only served to make him seem all the more outlandish to the close-knit Hairywinkles. Tales of his odd behavior grew with the passing of time, until children of Tad's generation had often been warned that if they failed to perform their assigned task, be it weeding, watering, or proper grooming, Old Hermit Hairywinkle would come in the dark of night and steal them away. So you see why it was that the younger Hairywinkles had come to fear and distrust the old hermit.

Mousemole, however, was not a Hairywinkle. His nature was such that the same tales that served to frighten Tad and the other young Hairywinkles had only aroused the small creatures curiosity. So much so, that as soon as he was old enough to go the distance, Mousemole had set out for Old Hermit Hairywinkle's cave, determined to learn for himself just what this mysterious Hairywinkle was really all about.

What he found must have been to his liking, for, ignoring the taunts of some, and the warnings of others, Mousemole continued his regular visits to the hermit's cave.

Tad's family, in true Hairywinkle fashion, had avoided any unpleasantness by ignoring Mousemole's occasional outings. After all, Tad's parents explained to those who questioned them about Mousemole's actions, the small creature was not a true member of their tribe, and one had to expect some unusual behavior now and again. Still, if Tad had been honest with himself, he would have admitted that more than once he had glanced up from his hoeing as he saw his small friend heading off toward the great water, and wondered, just what it was that Mousemole found so fascinating.

Some Hairywinkles claimed that Old Hermit Hairywinkle had Mousemole under a spell, and that whenever he wanted someone to do some particularly unpleasant task, the old hermit would send for the small creature by means of his strange powers. Tad, having been raised by most sensible parents, had never believed such foolish talk. But there existed still a certain mystery about Old Hermit Hairywinkle that made Tad reluctant to investigate further; for Hairywinkles are not comfortable when taken out of their familiar routine. And yet, as Tad felt himself growing more and more distressed over his furless state, he also began to wonder if it were not possible that Old Hermit Hairywinkle might be able to offer some sort of solution. After all, Old Hermit was a most unusual Hairywinkle, and Tad's difficulty was most unusual.

Sensing Tad's inner battle, and not one to wait when the moment was upon him, Mousemole leaped to his feet.

"Tad should come now, yes he should, while the Hairywinkles are taking their after lunch rest. Mousemole doesn't mind if others know he is visiting Old Hermit, no he doesn't. But Tad might find it easier if he were to go while the other Hairywinkles are sleeping."

Tad knew what Mousemole was hinting at. If it were learned that he had gone to the great waters to seek Old Hermit's advice, his furless condition would not be the only reason others would consider him odd.

"Old Hermit Hairywinkle might not fancy my visiting him," Tad said, though he too had risen to his feet, and was gazing off in the direction he knew the great water lay. "Perhaps you ought to go and ask him for me, Mousemole. After all, you know him so much better."

"Mousemole knows Old Hermit well enough to know he won't give an answer unless you ask him yourself, no he won't. But Mousemole will go with you, yes he will, if we go at once!"

Mousemole spoke firmly, for he knew that Hairywinkles are not good at making quick decisions and he had learned long ago how to push Tad into taking action.

"You're sure Old Hermit won't be angry? I mean, I wouldn't want to disturb him," Tad said, apparently not so easily pushed on this matter.

"If Tad doesn't come along at once, it is Mousemole who shall be angry," assured the small creature, his dark eyes snapping. "And then he shall not take Tad to see Old Hermit Hairywinkle at all, never! No he won't!"

Knowing that Mousemole was not given to idle threats, Tad still hesitated. He shifted uneasily on his feet, then glanced despairingly down at his dull body, while the small, but confident, figure of his friend impatiently waited for an answer.

"Very well, Mousemole." Tad said, his voice reflecting nervous determination. "I shall go with you to learn if Old Hermit Hairywinkle knows of a cure for my condition. For I must do something! I am so weary of being as I am. I should give anything to have fur like the other Hairywinkles!"

Mousemole didn't answer, but turning his furry face in the direction of the great water, he set off at a quick steady pace, leaving Tad to hurriedly gather up his hoe and pail and follow as best he was able.

The sound of the ocean's roar and the salty mist in the air surrounded Tad as he and Mousemole drew nearer the great water.

"Perhaps we should wait for another day, Mousemole." Tad suggested, beginning to have second thoughts as he followed along behind his friend. "I mean, Old Hermit Hairywinkle might not care for our dropping in on him so unexpectedly."

"Tad doesn't have to worry about that, no he doesn't." Mousemole assured without bothering to glance backward. "Old Hermit is used to visitors popping by his cave, yes he is, and he doesn't mind when they don't let him know they are coming, no he doesn't."

"Don't be absurd, Mousemole," Tad ordered a little crossly as he climbed rather awkwardly over a low branch Mousemole had just darted under. "You know none of the other Hairywinkles ever come to the great water."

"That may be true, Tad Hairywinkle, but Mousemole did not say who it was that came to visit Old Hermit Hairywinkle did he? Hairywinkles may feel they are the only creatures in the world, but Old Hermit has learned differently, yes, indeed he has."