d, 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 heart-strings 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,