'Now, the VERY next time this happens,' said a gruff and suspicious
voice, 'I shall be exceedingly angry. Who is it THIS time, disturbing
people on such a night? Speak up!'

'Oh, Badger,' cried the Rat, 'let us in, please. It's me, Rat, and my
friend Mole, and we've lost our way in the snow.'

'What, Ratty, my dear little man!' exclaimed the Badger, in quite a
different voice. 'Come along in, both of you, at once. Why, you must be
perished. Well I never! Lost in the snow! And in the Wild Wood, too, and
at this time of night! But come in with you.'

The two animals tumbled over each other in their eagerness to get
inside, and heard the door shut behind them with great joy and relief.

The Badger, who wore a long dressing-gown, and whose slippers were
indeed very down at heel, carried a flat candlestick in his paw and had
probably been on his way to bed when their summons sounded. He looked
kindly down on them and patted both their heads. 'This is not the sort
of night for small animals to be out,' he said paternally. 'I'm afraid
you've been up to some of your pranks again, Ratty. But come along;
come into the kitchen. There's a first-rate fire there, and supper and
everything.'

He shuffled on in front of them, carrying the light, and they followed
him, nudging each other in an anticipating sort of way, down a long,
gloomy, and, to tell the truth, decidedly shabby passage, into a sort of
a central hall; out of which they could dimly see other long tunnel-like
passages branching, passages mysterious and without apparent end. But
there were doors in the hall as well--stout oaken comfortable-looking
doors. One of these the Badger flung open, and at once they found
themselves in all the glow and warmth of a large fire-lit kitchen.

The floor was well-worn red brick, and on the wide hearth burnt a fire
of logs, between two attractive chimney-corners tucked away in the wall,
well out of any suspicion of draught. A couple of high-backed settles,
facing each other on either side of the fire, gave further sitting
accommodations for the sociably disposed. In the middle of the room
stood a long table of plain boards placed on trestles, with benches down
each side. At one end of it, where an arm-chair stood pushed back,
were spread the remains of the Badger's plain but ample supper. Rows of
spotless plates winked from the shelves of the dresser at the far end
of the room, and from the rafters overhead hung hams, bundles of drie