The Mole knew well that it is quite against animal-etiquette to dwell
on possible trouble ahead, or even to allude to it; so he dropped the
subject.

'And beyond the Wild Wood again?' he asked: 'Where it's all blue and
dim, and one sees what may be hills or perhaps they mayn't, and
something like the smoke of towns, or is it only cloud-drift?'

'Beyond the Wild Wood comes the Wide World,' said the Rat. 'And
that's something that doesn't matter, either to you or me. I've never
been there, and I'm never going, nor you either, if you've got any
sense at all. Don't ever refer to it again, please. Now then!
Here's our backwater at last, where we're going to lunch.'

Leaving the main stream, they now passed into what seemed at first
sight like a little land-locked lake. Green turf sloped down to
either edge, brown snaky tree-roots gleamed below the surface of the
quiet water, while ahead of them the silvery shoulder and foamy tumble
of a weir, arm-in-arm with a restless dripping mill-wheel, that held
up in its turn a grey-gabled mill-house, filled the air with a
soothing murmur of sound, dull and smothery, yet with little clear
voices speaking up cheerfully out of it at intervals. It was so very
beautiful that the Mole could only hold up both forepaws and gasp, 'O
my! O my! O my!'

The Rat brought the boat alongside the bank, made her fast, helped the
still awkward Mole safely ashore, and swung out the luncheon-basket.
The Mole begged as a favour to be allowed to unpack it all by himself;
and the Rat was very pleased to indulge him, and to sprawl at full
length on the grass and rest, while his excited friend shook out the