Mole. Tell us all
about it, and how you came to make it what it is.'

Then, while the Rat busied himself fetching plates, and knives and
forks, and mustard which he mixed in an egg-cup, the Mole, his bosom
still heaving with the stress of his recent emotion, related--somewhat
shyly at first, but with more freedom as he warmed to his subject--how
this was planned, and how that was thought out, and how this was got
through a windfall from an aunt, and that was a wonderful find and a
bargain, and this other thing was bought out of laborious savings and a
certain amount of 'going without.' His spirits finally quite restored,
he must needs go and caress his possessions, and take a lamp and show
off their points to his visitor and expatiate on them, quite forgetful
of the supper they both so much needed; Rat, who was desperately hungry
but strove to conceal it, nodding seriously, examining with a puckered
brow, and saying, 'wonderful,' and 'most remarkable,' at intervals, when
the chance for an observation was given him.

At last the Rat succeeded in decoying him to the table, and had just got
seriously to work with the sardine-opener when sounds were heard from
the fore-court without--sounds like the scuffling of small feet in the
gravel and a confused murmur of tiny voices, while broken sentences
reached them--'Now, all in a line--hold the lantern up a bit,
Tommy--clear your throats first--no coughing after I say one, two,
three.--Where's young Bill?--Here, come on, do, we're all a-waiting----'

'What's up?' inquired the Rat, pausing in his labours.

'I think it must be the field-mice,' replied the Mole, with a touch of
pride in his manner. 'They go round carol-singing regularly at this time
of the year. They're quite an institution in these parts. And they never
pass me over--they come to Mole End last of all; and I used to give them
hot drinks, and supper too sometimes, when I could afford it. It will be
like old times to hear them again.'

'Let's have a look at them!' cried the Rat, jumping up and running to
the door.

It was a pretty sight, and a seasonable one, that met their eyes when
they flung the door open. In the fore-court, lit by the dim rays of a
horn lantern, some eight or ten little fieldmice stood in a semicircle,
red worsted comforters round their throats, their fore-paws thrust deep
into their pockets, their feet jigging for warmth. With bright beady
eyes they glanced shyly at each other, sniggering