She was so near that the Child could have touched her by reaching out his hand.

But she took no more notice of him than if he had been a rotten stump.

Less, in fact, for she might have tried to gnaw into him if he had been a rotten stump, in the hope of finding some wood-grubs.
The mouse dragged away the velvety body of the butterfly to her hole under the roots.

She was no more than just in time, for no sooner was she out of sight than along came a fierce-eyed little shrew-mouse, the most audacious and pugnacious of the mouse tribe, who would undoubtedly have robbed her of her prey, and perhaps made a meal of her at the same time.

He nosed at the wings of the butterfly, nibbled at them, decided they were no good, and then came ambling over to the Child's feet.
Shoe-leather! That was something quite new to him.