and
how jolly a fire of logs in the parlour would be, and what a supper he
meant to eat; never noticing his companion's silence and distressful
state of mind. At last, however, when they had gone some considerable
way further, and were passing some tree stumps at the edge of a copse
that bordered the road, he stopped and said kindly, "Look here, Mole,
old chap, you seem dead tired. No talk left in you, and your feet
dragging like lead. We'll sit down here for a minute and rest. The
snow has held off so far, and the best part of our journey is over."

The Mole subsided forlornly on a tree stump and tried to control
himself, for he felt it surely coming. The sob he had fought with so
long refused to be beaten. Up and up, it forced its way to the air,
and then another, and another, and others thick and fast; till poor
Mole at last gave up the struggle, and cried freely and helplessly and
openly, now that he knew it was all over and he had lost what he could
hardly be said to have found.

The Rat, astonished and dismayed at the violence of Mole's paroxysm of
grief, did not dare to speak for a while. At last he said, very
quietly and sympathetically, "What is it, old fellow? Whatever can be
the matter? Tell us your trouble, and let me see what I can do."

Poor Mole found it difficult to get any words out between the
upheavals of his chest that followed one upon another so quickly and
held back speech and choked it as it came. "I know it's a--shabby,
dingy little place," he sobbed forth at last brokenly: "not like--your
cosy quarters--or Toad's beautiful hall--or Badger's great house--but
it was my own little home--and I was fond of it--and I went away and
forgot all about it--and then I smelt it suddenly--on the road, when I
called and you wouldn't listen, Rat--and everything came back to me
with a rush--and I _wanted_ it!--O dear, O dear!--and when you
_wouldn't_ turn back, Ratty--and I had to leave it, though I was
smelling it all the time--I thought my heart would break.--We might
have just gone and had one look at it, Ratty--only one look--it was
close by--but you wouldn't turn back, Ratty, you wouldn't turn back! O
dear, O dear!"

Recollection brought fresh waves of sorrow, and sobs again took full
charge of him, preventing further speech.

The Rat stared straight in front of him, saying nothing, only patting
Mole gently on the shoulder. After a time he muttered gloomily, "I see
it all now! What a _pig_ I have be