haven't seen that yet; still, I can make you comfortable. And I'll
teach you to row, and to swim, and you'll soon be as handy on the
water as any of us.'

The Mole was so touched by his kind manner of speaking that he could
find no voice to answer him; and he had to brush away a tear or two
with the back of his paw. But the Rat kindly looked in another
direction, and presently the Mole's spirits revived again, and he was
even able to give some straight back-talk to a couple of moorhens who
were sniggering to each other about his bedraggled appearance.

When they got home, the Rat made a bright fire in the parlour, and
planted the Mole in an arm-chair in front of it, having fetched down a
dressing-gown and slippers for him, and told him river stories till
supper-time. Very thrilling stories they were, too, to an
earth-dwelling animal like Mole. Stories about weirs, and sudden
floods, and leaping pike, and steamers that flung hard bottles--at
least bottles were certainly flung, and FROM steamers, so presumably
BY them; and about herons, and how particular they were whom they
spoke to; and about adventures down drains, and night-fishings with
Otter, or excursions far a-field with Badger. Supper was a most
cheerful meal; but very shortly afterwards a terribly sleepy Mole had
to be escorted upstairs by his considerate host, to the best bedroom,
where he soon laid his head on his pillow in great peace and
contentment, knowing that his new-found friend the River was lapping
the sill of his window.

This day was only the first of many similar ones for the emancipated
Mole, each of them longer and full of interest as the ripening summer
moved onward. He learnt to swim and to row, and entered into the joy