Вітер у вербах
Dulce Domum
Inaveryfewminutessupperwasready,andMole,ashetooktheheadofthetableinasortofadream,sawalatelybarrenboardsetthickwithsavourycomforts;sawhislittlefriends’facesbrightenandbeamastheyfelltowithoutdelay;andthenlethimselfloose—forhewasfamishedindeed—ontheprovendersomagicallyprovided,thinkingwhatahappyhome-comingthishadturnedout,afterall.Astheyate,theytalkedofoldtimes,andthefield-micegavehimthelocalgossipuptodate,andansweredaswellastheycouldthehundredquestionshehadtoaskthem.TheRatsaidlittleornothing,onlytakingcarethateachguesthadwhathewanted,andplentyofit,andthatMolehadnotroubleoranxietyaboutanything.
Theyclatteredoffatlast,verygratefulandshoweringwishesoftheseason,withtheirjacketpocketsstuffedwithremembrancesforthesmallbrothersandsistersathome.Whenthedoorhadclosedonthelastofthemandthechinkofthelanternshaddiedaway,MoleandRatkickedthefireup,drewtheirchairsin,brewedthemselvesalastnightcapofmulledale,anddiscussedtheeventsofthelongday.AtlasttheRat,withatremendousyawn,said,"Mole,oldchap,I’mreadytodrop.Sleepyissimplynottheword.Thatyourownbunkoveronthatside?Verywell,then,I’lltakethis
