deed, and small and
poorly furnished, and yet his, the home he had made for himself, the
home he had been so happy to get back to after his day's work. And the
home had been happy with him, too, evidently, and was missing him, and
wanted him back, and was telling him so, through his nose, sorrowfully,
reproachfully, but with no bitterness or anger; only with plaintive
reminder that it was there, and wanted him.

The call was clear, the summons was plain. He must obey it instantly,
and go. 'Ratty!' he called, full of joyful excitement, 'hold on! Come
back! I want you, quick!'

'Oh, COME along, Mole, do!' replied the Rat cheerfully, still plodding
along.

'PLEASE stop, Ratty!' pleaded the poor Mole, in anguish of heart. 'You
don't understand! It's my home, my old home! I've just come across the
smell of it, and it's close by here, really quite close. And I MUST go
to it, I must, I must! Oh, come back, Ratty! Please, please come back!'

The Rat was by this time very far ahead, too far to hear clearly what
the Mole was calling, too far to catch the sharp note of painful appeal
in his voice. And he was much taken up with the weather, for he too
could smell something--something suspiciously like approaching snow.

'Mole, we mustn't stop now, really!' he called back. 'We'll come for
it to-morrow, whatever it is you've found. But I daren't stop now--it's
late, and the snow's coming on again, and I'm not sure of the way! And I
want your nose, Mole, so come on quick, there's a good fellow!' And the
Rat pressed forward on his way without waiting for an answer.

Poor Mole stood alone in the road, his heart torn asunder, and a big sob
gathering, gathering, somewhere low down inside him, to leap up to the
surface presently, he knew, in passionate escape. But even under such
a test as this his loyalty to his friend stood firm. Never for a moment
did he dream of abandoning him. Meanwhile, the wafts from his old home
pleaded, whispered, conjured, and finally claimed him imperiously. He
dared not tarry longer within their magic circle. With a wrench that
tore his very heartstrings he set his face down the road and followed
submissively in the track of the Rat, while faint, thin little smells,
still dogging his retreating nose, reproached him for his new friendship
and his callous forgetfulness.

With an effort he caught up to the unsuspecting Rat, who began
chattering cheerfully about what they would do when they got back, and
ho