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Featherhead?’
    Featherhead, the gnome Rincemangle was staying with, had led a raid on the book section to see if there were any books about living in the country.
    Towards dawn a party of tired gnomes came back, dragging a big paper bag.
    ‘We were almost spotted by the nightwatchman,’ muttered Featherhead. ‘We got a few books, though.’
    There was one in the sack that had nothing to do with the country. Rincemangle looked at it for a long time.
    ‘
Teach Yourself to Drive
,’ he said. ‘Hmmm.’ He opened it with some difficulty and saw a large picture of the controls of a car. He didn’t say anything for a long time.
    Finally the Head Gnome said: ‘It’s very interesting, but I hardly think you’re big enough to drive anything!’
    ‘No,’ said Rincemangle. ‘But perhaps … Featherhead, can you show me where the lorries are parked at night? I’ve got an idea.’
    Early the next evening the two gnomes reached the large underground car park where the store’s lorries were parked.
    The journey had taken them quite a long time because they took turns at dragging the book on driving behind them.
    And it took them all night to examine the lorry. When they arrived back at the toy department they were very tired and covered in oil.
    Rincemangle called the gnomes together.
    ‘I think we can leave here and take things with us,’ he said, ‘but it will be rather tricky. We’ll have to drive a lorry, you see.’
    He drew diagrams to explain. A hundred gnomes would turn the steering wheel by pulling on ropes, while fifty would be in charge of the gear lever. Other groups would push the pedals when necessary, and one gnome would hang from the driving mirror and give commands through a megaphone.
    ‘It looks quite straightforward,’ said Rincemangle. ‘To me it looks as though driving just involves pushing and pulling things at the right time.’
    An elderly gnome got up and said nervously: ‘I’m not sure about all this. I’m sure there must be more to driving than that.’
    But a lot of the younger gnomes were very enthusiastic, and so the idea took hold.
    For the rest of the week the gnomes were very busy. Some stole bits of string from the hardware department, and several times they visited the lorries at night to take measurements and try to find out how it worked. Meanwhile the older gnomes rolled their possessions down through the store until they were piled up in the ceiling of the lorry garage.
    A handpicked party of intrepid mountaineering gnomes found out where the lorry keys were kept (high up on a hook in a little office). Rincemangle, meanwhile, studied road maps and wondered what the Highway Code was.
    At last the day came for moving.
    ‘We’ve got to work fast,’ said Rincemangle, when they heard the last assistant leave the building. ‘Come on – now!’
    While the gnomes lowered their possessions through the garage roof on to the back of the lorry, Rincemangle and an advance party of young gnomes squeezed into the cab through a hole by the brake pedal.
    Inside it was – to them – like being in a big empty hall. The steering wheel seemed very big and far too high up.
    The gnomes formed themselves into a human pyramid and by standing on the topmost gnome’s back Rincemangle managed to throw a line over the steering wheel. Soon they had several rope ladders rigged up and could set to work.
    They planned to steer by two ropes tied to the wheel, with fifty gnomes hanging on to each one. While this was being sorted out other gnomes built a sort of wooden platform up against the windscreen, just big enough for Rincemangle to stand and give orders through a megaphone.
    Other gnomes came in and were sent to their positions by Featherhead. Before long the cab was festooned with rope ladders, pulleys and fragile wooden platforms, and these in turn were covered with gnomes hanging on to levers and lengths of thread.
    The big moment came when the ignition key was hauled up and shoved into its