ades
cheered him on, Mole coaxed and encouraged him, and the Rat went so
far as to take him by the shoulders and shake him; but nothing could
overcome his stage-fright. They were all busily engaged on him like
watermen applying the Royal Humane Society's regulations to a case of
long submersion, when the latch clicked, the door opened, and the
field-mouse with the lantern reappeared, staggering under the weight
of his basket.

There was no more talk of play-acting once the very real and solid
contents of the basket had been tumbled out on the table. Under the
generalship of Rat, everybody was set to do something or to fetch
something. In a very few minutes supper was ready, and Mole, as he
took the head of the table in a sort of a dream, saw a lately barren
board set thick with savoury comforts; saw his little friends' faces
brighten and beam as they fell to without delay; and then let himself
loose--for he was famished indeed--on the provender so magically
provided, thinking what a happy home-coming this had turned out, after
all. As they ate, they talked of old times, and the field-mice gave
him the local gossip up to date, and answered as well as they could
the hundred questions he had to ask them. The Rat said little or
nothing, only taking care that each guest had what he wanted, and
plenty of it, and that Mole had no trouble or anxiety about anything.

They clattered off at last, very grateful and showering wishes of the
season, with their jacket pockets stuffed with remembrances for the
small brothers and sisters at home. When the door had closed on the
last of them and the chink of the lanterns had died away, Mole and Rat
kicked the fire up, drew their chairs in, brewed themselves a last
nightcap of mulled ale, and discussed the events of the long day. At
last the Rat, with a tremendous yawn, said, "Mole, old chap, I'm ready
to drop. Sleepy is simply not the word. That your own bunk over on
that side? Very well, then, I'll take this. What a ripping little
house this is! Everything so handy!"

He clambered into his bunk and rolled himself well up in the blankets,
and slumber gathered him forthwith, as a swathe of barley is folded
into the arms of the reaping machine.

The weary Mole also was glad to turn in without delay, and soon had
his head on his pillow, in great joy and contentment. But ere he
closed his eyes he let them wander round his old room, mellow in the
glow of the firelight that played or reste