The Wind in the Willows Read online

  V

  DULCE DOMUM

  The sheep ran huddling together against the hurdles, blowing out thinnostrils and stamping with delicate fore-feet, their heads thrown backand a light steam rising from the crowded sheep-pen into the frostyair, as the two animals hastened by in high spirits, with much chatterand laughter. They were returning across country after a long day'souting with Otter, hunting and exploring on the wide uplands, wherecertain streams tributary to their own River had their first smallbeginnings; and the shades of the short winter day were closing in onthem, and they had still some distance to go. Plodding at randomacross the plough, they had heard the sheep and had made for them; andnow, leading from the sheep-pen, they found a beaten track that madewalking a lighter business, and responded, moreover, to that smallinquiring something which all animals carry inside them, sayingunmistakably, "Yes, quite right; _this_ leads home!"

  "It looks as if we were coming to a village," said the Mole somewhatdubiously, slackening his pace, as the track, that had in time becomea path and then had developed into a lane, now handed them over to thecharge of a well-metalled road. The animals did not hold withvillages, and their own highways, thickly frequented as they were,took an independent course, regardless of church, post-office, orpublic-house.

  "Oh, never mind!" said the Rat. "At this season of the year they'reall safe indoors by this time, sitting round the fire; men, women, andchildren, dogs and cats and all. We shall slip through all right,without any bother or unpleasantness, and we can have a look at themthrough their windows if you like, and see what they're doing."

  The rapid nightfall of mid-December had quite beset the little villageas they approached it on soft feet over a first thin fall of powderysnow. Little was visible but squares of a dusky orange-red on eitherside of the street, where the firelight or lamplight of each cottageoverflowed through the casements into the dark world without. Most ofthe low latticed windows were innocent of blinds, and to thelookers-in from outside, the inmates, gathered round the tea-table,absorbed in handiwork, or talking with laughter and gesture, had eachthat happy grace which is the last thing the skilled actor shallcapture--the natural grace which goes with perfect unconsciousness ofobservation. Moving at will from one theatre to another, the twospectators, so far from home themselves, had something of wistfulnessin their eyes as they watched a cat being stroked, a sleepy childpicked up and huddled off to bed, or a tired man stretch and knock outhis pipe on the end of a smouldering log.

  But it was from one little window, with its blind drawn down, a mereblank transparency on the night, that the sense of home and the littlecurtained world within walls--the larger stressful world of outsideNature shut out and forgotten--most pulsated. Close against the whiteblind hung a bird-cage, clearly silhouetted, every wire, perch, andappurtenance distinct and recognisable, even to yesterday's dull-edgedlump of sugar. On the middle perch the fluffy occupant, head tuckedwell into feathers, seemed so near to them as to be easily stroked,had they tried; even the delicate tips of his plumped-out plumagepencilled plainly on the illuminated screen. As they looked, thesleepy little fellow stirred uneasily, woke, shook himself, and raisedhis head. They could see the gape of his tiny beak as he yawned in abored sort of way, looked round, and then settled his head into hisback again, while the ruffled feathers gradually subsided into perfectstillness. Then a gust of bitter wind took them in the back of theneck, a small sting of frozen sleet on the skin woke them as from adream, and they knew their toes to be cold and their legs tired, andtheir own home distant a weary way.

  Once beyond the village, where the cottages ceased abruptly, on eitherside of the road they could smell through the darkness the friendlyfields again; and they braced themselves for the last long stretch,the home stretch, the stretch that we know is bound to end, some time,in the rattle of the door-latch, the sudden firelight, and the sightof familiar things greeting us as long-absent travellers from farover-sea. They plodded along steadily and silently, each of themthinking his own thoughts. The Mole's ran a good deal on supper, as itwas pitch-dark, and it was all a strange country for him as far as heknew, and he was following obediently in the wake of the Rat, leavingthe guidance entirely to him. As for the Rat, he was walking a littleway ahead, as his habit was, his shoulders humped, his eyes fixed onthe straight grey road in front of him; so he did not notice poor Molewhen suddenly the summons reached him, and took him like an electricshock.

  We others, who have long lost the more subtle of the physical senses,have not even proper terms to express an animal's inter-communicationswith his surroundings, living or otherwise, and have only the word"smell," for instance, to include the whole range of delicate thrillswhich murmur in the nose of the animal night and day, summoning,warning, inciting, repelling. It was one of these mysterious fairycalls from out the void that suddenly reached Mole in the darkness,making him tingle through and through with its very familiar appeal,even while yet he could not clearly remember what it was. He stoppeddead in his tracks, his nose searching hither and thither in itsefforts to recapture the fine filament, the telegraphic current, thathad so strongly moved him. A moment, and he had caught it again; andwith it this time came recollection in fullest flood.

  Home! That was what they meant, those caressing appeals, those softtouches wafted through the air, those invisible little hands pullingand tugging, all one way! Why, it must be quite close by him at thatmoment, his old home that he had hurriedly forsaken and never soughtagain, that day when he first found the River! And now it was sendingout its scouts and its messengers to capture him and bring him in.Since his escape on that bright morning he had hardly given it athought, so absorbed had he been in his new life, in all itspleasures, its surprises, its fresh and captivating experiences. Now,with a rush of old memories, how clearly it stood up before him, inthe darkness! Shabby indeed, and small and poorly furnished, and yethis, the home he had made for himself, the home he had been so happyto get back to after his day's work. And the home had been happy withhim, too, evidently, and was missing him, and wanted him back, and wastelling him so, through his nose, sorrowfully, reproachfully, but withno bitterness or anger; only with plaintive reminder that it wasthere, 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! Comeback! I want you, quick!"

  "Oh, _come_ along, Mole, do!" replied the Rat cheerfully, stillplodding 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 comeacross 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 whatthe Mole was calling, too far to catch the sharp note of painfulappeal in his voice. And he was much taken up with the weather, for hetoo, could smell something--something suspiciously like approachingsnow.

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

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

  With an effort he
caught up to the unsuspecting Rat, who beganchattering cheerfully about what they would do when they got back, andhow jolly a fire of logs in the parlour would be, and what a supper hemeant to eat; never noticing his companion's silence and distressfulstate of mind. At last, however, when they had gone some considerableway further, and were passing some tree stumps at the edge of a copsethat bordered the road, he stopped and said kindly, "Look here, Mole,old chap, you seem dead tired. No talk left in you, and your feetdragging like lead. We'll sit down here for a minute and rest. Thesnow 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 controlhimself, for he felt it surely coming. The sob he had fought with solong 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 poorMole at last gave up the struggle, and cried freely and helplessly andopenly, now that he knew it was all over and he had lost what he couldhardly be said to have found.

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

  Poor Mole found it difficult to get any words out between theupheavals of his chest that followed one upon another so quickly andheld 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--yourcosy quarters--or Toad's beautiful hall--or Badger's great house--butit was my own little home--and I was fond of it--and I went away andforgot all about it--and then I smelt it suddenly--on the road, when Icalled and you wouldn't listen, Rat--and everything came back to mewith 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 wassmelling it all the time--I thought my heart would break.--We mighthave just gone and had one look at it, Ratty--only one look--it wasclose by--but you wouldn't turn back, Ratty, you wouldn't turn back! Odear, O dear!"

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

  The Rat stared straight in front of him, saying nothing, only pattingMole gently on the shoulder. After a time he muttered gloomily, "I seeit all now! What a _pig_ I have been! A pig--that's me! Just a pig--aplain pig!"

  He waited till Mole's sobs became gradually less stormy and morerhythmical; he waited till at last sniffs were frequent and sobs onlyintermittent. Then he rose from his seat, and, remarking carelessly,"Well, now we'd really better be getting on, old chap!" set off up theroad again over the toilsome way they had come.

  "Wherever are you (hic) going to (hic), Ratty?" cried the tearfulMole, looking up in alarm.

  "We're going to find that home of yours, old fellow," replied the Ratpleasantly; "so you had better come along, for it will take somefinding, and we shall want your nose."

  "Oh, come back, Ratty, do!" cried the Mole, getting up and hurryingafter him. "It's no good, I tell you! It's too late, and too dark, andthe place is too far off, and the snow's coming! And--and I nevermeant to let you know I was feeling that way about it--it was all anaccident and a mistake! And think of River Bank, and your supper!"

  "Hang River Bank, and supper, too!" said the Rat heartily. "I tellyou, I'm going to find this place now, if I stay out all night. Socheer up, old chap, and take my arm, and we'll very soon be back thereagain."

  Still snuffling, pleading, and reluctant, Mole suffered himself to bedragged back along the road by his imperious companion, who by a flowof cheerful talk and anecdote endeavoured to beguile his spirits backand make the weary way seem shorter. When at last it seemed to the Ratthat they must be nearing that part of the road where the Mole hadbeen "held up," he said, "Now, no more talking. Business! Use yournose, and give your mind to it."

  They moved on in silence for some little way, when suddenly the Ratwas conscious, through his arm that was linked in Mole's, of a faintsort of electric thrill that was passing down that animal's body.Instantly he disengaged himself, fell back a pace, and waited, allattention.

  The signals were coming through!

  Mole stood a moment rigid, while his uplifted nose, quiveringslightly, felt the air.

  Then a short, quick run forward--a fault--a check--a try back; andthen a slow, steady, confident advance.

  The Rat, much excited, kept close to his heels as the Mole, withsomething of the air of a sleep-walker, crossed a dry ditch, scrambledthrough a hedge, and nosed his way over a field open and trackless andbare in the faint starlight.

  Suddenly, without giving warning, he dived; but the Rat was on thealert, and promptly followed him down the tunnel to which his unerringnose had faithfully led him.

  It was close and airless, and the earthy smell was strong, and itseemed a long time to Rat ere the passage ended and he could standerect and stretch and shake himself. The Mole struck a match, and byits light the Rat saw that they were standing in an open space, neatlyswept and sanded underfoot, and directly facing them was Mole's littlefront door, with "Mole End" painted, in Gothic lettering, over thebell-pull at the side.

  Mole reached down a lantern from a nail on the wall and lit it, and theRat, looking round him, saw that they were in a sort of fore-court. Agarden-seat stood on one side of the door, and on the other a roller;for the Mole, who was a tidy animal when at home, could not stand havinghis ground kicked up by other animals into little runs that ended inearth-heaps. On the walls hung wire baskets with ferns in them,alternating with brackets carrying plaster statuary--Garibaldi, and theinfant Samuel, and Queen Victoria, and other heroes of modern Italy.Down on one side of the fore-court ran a skittle-alley, with benchesalong it and little wooden tables marked with rings that hinted atbeer-mugs. In the middle was a small round pond containing gold-fish andsurrounded by a cockle-shell border. Out of the centre of the pond rosea fanciful erection clothed in more cockle-shells and topped by a largesilvered glass ball that reflected everything all wrong and had a verypleasing effect.

  Mole's face beamed at the sight of all these objects so dear to him,and he hurried Rat through the door, lit a lamp in the hall, and tookone glance round his old home. He saw the dust lying thick oneverything, saw the cheerless, deserted look of the long-neglectedhouse, and its narrow, meagre dimensions, its worn and shabbycontents--and collapsed again on a hall-chair, his nose to his paws."O Ratty!" he cried dismally, "why ever did I do it? Why did I bringyou to this poor, cold little place, on a night like this, when youmight have been at River Bank by this time, toasting your toes beforea blazing fire, with all your own nice things about you!"

  The Rat paid no heed to his doleful self-reproaches. He was runninghere and there, opening doors, inspecting rooms and cupboards, andlighting lamps and candles and sticking them up everywhere. "What acapital little house this is!" he called out cheerily. "So compact! Sowell planned! Everything here and everything in its place! We'll makea jolly night of it. The first thing we want is a good fire; I'll seeto that--I always know where to find things. So this is the parlour?Splendid! Your own idea, those little sleeping-bunks in the wall?Capital! Now, I'll fetch the wood and the coals, and you get a duster,Mole--you'll find one in the drawer of the kitchen table--and try andsmarten things up a bit. Bustle about, old chap!"

  Encouraged by his inspiriting companion, the Mole roused himself anddusted and polished with energy and heartiness, while the Rat, runningto and fro with armfuls of fuel, soon had a cheerful blaze roaring upthe chimney. He hailed the Mole to come and warm himself; but Molepromptly had another fit of the blues, dropping down on a couch indark despair and burying his face in his duster. "Rat," he moaned,"how about your supper, you poor, cold, hungry, weary animal? I'venothing to give you--nothing--not a crumb!"

  "What a fellow you are for giving in!" said the Rat reproachfully."Why, only just now I saw a sardine-opener on the kitchen dresser,quite distinctly; and everybody knows that means there are sardinesabo
ut somewhere in the neighbourhood. Rouse yourself! pull yourselftogether, and come with me and forage."

  They went and foraged accordingly, hunting through every cupboard andturning out every drawer. The result was not so very depressing afterall, though of course it might have been better; a tin of sardines--abox of captain's biscuits, nearly full--and a German sausage encasedin silver paper.

  "There's a banquet for you!" observed the Rat, as he arranged thetable. "I know some animals who would give their ears to be sittingdown to supper with us to-night!"

  "No bread!" groaned the Mole dolorously; "no butter, no--"

  "No _pate de foie gras_, no champagne!" continued the Rat, grinning."And that reminds me--what's that little door at the end of thepassage? Your cellar, of course! Every luxury in this house! Just youwait a minute."

  He made for the cellar-door, and presently reappeared, somewhat dusty,with a bottle of beer in each paw and another under each arm,"Self-indulgent beggar you seem to be, Mole," he observed. "Denyyourself nothing. This is really the jolliest little place I ever wasin. Now, wherever did you pick up those prints? Make the place look sohome-like, they do. No wonder you're so fond of it, Mole. Tell us allabout it, and how you came to make it what it is."

  Then, while the Rat busied himself fetching plates, and knives andforks, and mustard which he mixed in an egg-cup, the Mole, his bosomstill heaving with the stress of his recent emotion, related--somewhatshyly at first, but with more freedom as he warmed to his subject--howthis was planned, and how that was thought out, and how this was gotthrough a windfall from an aunt, and that was a wonderful find and abargain, and this other thing was bought out of laborious savings anda certain amount of "going without." His spirits finally quiterestored, he must needs go and caress his possessions, and take a lampand show off their points to his visitor and expatiate on them, quiteforgetful of the supper they both so much needed; Rat, who wasdesperately hungry but strove to conceal it, nodding seriously,examining with a puckered brow, and saying, "wonderful," and "mostremarkable," at intervals, when the chance for an observation wasgiven him.

  At last the Rat succeeded in decoying him to the table, and had justgot seriously to work with the sardine-opener when sounds were heardfrom the fore-court without--sounds like the scuffling of small feetin the gravel and a confused murmur of tiny voices, while brokensentences reached them--"Now, all in a line--hold the lantern up abit, Tommy--clear your throats first--no coughing after I say one,two, three.--Where's young Bill?--Here, come on, do, we're alla-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 ofpride in his manner. "They go round carol-singing regularly at thistime of the year. They're quite an institution in these parts. Andthey never pass me over--they come to Mole End last of all; and I usedto give them hot drinks, and supper too sometimes, when I could affordit. It will be like old times to hear them again."

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

  It was a pretty sight, and a seasonable one, that met their eyes whenthey flung the door open. In the fore-court, lit by the dim rays of ahorn lantern, some eight or ten little field-mice stood in asemicircle, red worsted comforters round their throats, theirfore-paws thrust deep into their pockets, their feet jigging forwarmth. With bright beady eyes they glanced shyly at each other,sniggering a little, sniffing and applying coat-sleeves a good deal.As the door opened, one of the elder ones that carried the lantern wasjust saying, "Now then, one, two, three!" and forthwith their shrilllittle voices uprose on the air, singing one of the old-time carolsthat their forefathers composed in fields that were fallow and held byfrost, or when snow-bound in chimney corners, and handed down to besung in the miry street to lamp-lit windows at Yule-time.

  _CAROL_

  _Villagers all, this frosty tide, Let your doors swing open wide, Though wind may follow, and snow beside, Yet draw us in by your fire to bide; Joy shall be yours in the morning!_

  _Here we stand in the cold and the sleet, Blowing fingers and stamping feet, Come from far away you to greet-- You by the fire and we in the street-- Bidding you joy in the morning!_

  _For ere one half of the night was gone, Sudden a star has led us on, Raining bliss and benison-- Bliss to-morrow and more anon, Joy for every morning!_

  _Goodman Joseph toiled through the snow-- Saw the star o'er a stable low; Mary she might not further go-- Welcome thatch, and litter below! Joy was hers in the morning!_

  _And then they heard the angels tell "Who were the first to cry _Nowell_? Animals all, as it befell, In the stable where they did dwell! Joy shall be theirs in the morning!"_

  The voices ceased, the singers, bashful but smiling, exchangedsidelong glances, and silence succeeded--but for a moment only. Then,from up above and far away, down the tunnel they had so latelytravelled was borne to their ears in a faint musical hum the sound ofdistant bells ringing a joyful and clangorous peal.

  "Very well sung, boys!" cried the Rat heartily. "And now come alongin, all of you, and warm yourselves by the fire, and have somethinghot!"

  "Yes, come along, field-mice," cried the Mole eagerly. "This is quitelike old times! Shut the door after you. Pull up that settle to thefire. Now, you just wait a minute, while we--O, Ratty!" he cried indespair, plumping down on a seat, with tears impending. "Whatever arewe doing? We've nothing to give them!"

  "You leave all that to me," said the masterful Rat. "Here, you withthe lantern! Come over this way. I want to talk to you. Now, tell me,are there any shops open at this hour of the night?"

  "Why, certainly, sir," replied the field-mouse respectfully. "At thistime of the year our shops keep open to all sorts of hours."

  "Then look here!" said the Rat. "You go off at once, you and yourlantern, and you get me--"

  Here much muttered conversation ensued, and the Mole only heard bitsof it, such as--"Fresh, mind!--no, a pound of that will do--see youget Buggins's, for I won't have any other--no, only the best--if youcan't get it there, try somewhere else--yes, of course, home-made, notinned stuff--well then, do the best you can!" Finally, there was achink of coin passing from paw to paw, the field-mouse was providedwith an ample basket for his purchases, and off he hurried, he and hislantern.

  The rest of the field-mice, perched in a row on the settle, theirsmall legs swinging, gave themselves up to enjoyment of the fire, andtoasted their chilblains till they tingled; while the Mole, failing todraw them into easy conversation, plunged into family history and madeeach of them recite the names of his numerous brothers, who were tooyoung, it appeared, to be allowed to go out a-carolling this year, butlooked forward very shortly to winning the parental consent.

  The Rat, meanwhile, was busy examining the label on one of thebeer-bottles. "I perceive this to be Old Burton," he remarkedapprovingly. "_Sensible_ Mole! The very thing! Now we shall be able tomull some ale! Get the things ready, Mole, while I draw the corks."

  It did not take long to prepare the brew and thrust the tin heaterwell into the red heart of the fire; and soon every field-mouse wassipping and coughing and choking (for a little mulled ale goes a longway) and wiping his eyes and laughing and forgetting he had ever beencold in all his life.

  "They act plays, too, these fellows," the Mole explained to the Rat."Make them up all by themselves, and act them afterwards. And verywell they do it, too! They gave us a capital one last year, about afield-mouse who was captured at sea by a Barbary corsair, and made torow in a galley; and when he escaped and got home again, his lady-lovehad gone into a convent. Here, _you_! You were in it, I remember. Getup and recite a bit."

  The field-mouse addressed got up on his legs, giggled shyly, lookedround the room, and remained absolutely tongue-tied. His comradescheered him on
, Mole coaxed and encouraged him, and the Rat went sofar as to take him by the shoulders and shake him; but nothing couldovercome his stage-fright. They were all busily engaged on him likewatermen applying the Royal Humane Society's regulations to a case oflong submersion, when the latch clicked, the door opened, and thefield-mouse with the lantern reappeared, staggering under the weightof his basket.

  There was no more talk of play-acting once the very real and solidcontents of the basket had been tumbled out on the table. Under thegeneralship of Rat, everybody was set to do something or to fetchsomething. In a very few minutes supper was ready, and Mole, as hetook the head of the table in a sort of a dream, saw a lately barrenboard set thick with savoury comforts; saw his little friends' facesbrighten and beam as they fell to without delay; and then let himselfloose--for he was famished indeed--on the provender so magicallyprovided, thinking what a happy home-coming this had turned out, afterall. As they ate, they talked of old times, and the field-mice gavehim the local gossip up to date, and answered as well as they couldthe hundred questions he had to ask them. The Rat said little ornothing, only taking care that each guest had what he wanted, andplenty of it, and that Mole had no trouble or anxiety about anything.

  They clattered off at last, very grateful and showering wishes of theseason, with their jacket pockets stuffed with remembrances for thesmall brothers and sisters at home. When the door had closed on thelast of them and the chink of the lanterns had died away, Mole and Ratkicked the fire up, drew their chairs in, brewed themselves a lastnightcap of mulled ale, and discussed the events of the long day. Atlast the Rat, with a tremendous yawn, said, "Mole, old chap, I'm readyto drop. Sleepy is simply not the word. That your own bunk over onthat side? Very well, then, I'll take this. What a ripping littlehouse 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 foldedinto the arms of the reaping machine.

  The weary Mole also was glad to turn in without delay, and soon hadhis head on his pillow, in great joy and contentment. But ere heclosed his eyes he let them wander round his old room, mellow in theglow of the firelight that played or rested on familiar and friendlythings which had long been unconsciously a part of him, and nowsmilingly received him back, without rancour. He was now in just theframe of mind that the tactful Rat had quietly worked to bring aboutin him. He saw clearly how plain and simple--how narrow, even--it allwas; but clearly, too, how much it all meant to him, and the specialvalue of some such anchorage in one's existence. He did not at allwant to abandon the new life and its splendid spaces, to turn his backon sun and air and all they offered him and creep home and stay there;the upper world was all too strong, it called to him still, even downthere, and he knew he must return to the larger stage. But it wasgood to think he had this to come back to, this place which was allhis own, these things which were so glad to see him again and couldalways be counted upon for the same simple welcome.