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- Стр. 47/117
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"
You
leave
all
that
to
me
,
"
said
the
masterful
Rat
.
"
Here
,
you
with
the
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
this
time
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
your
lantern
,
and
you
get
me
--
"
Here
much
muttered
conversation
ensued
,
and
the
Mole
only
heard
bits
of
it
,
such
as
--
"
Fresh
,
mind
!
--
no
,
a
pound
of
that
will
do
--
see
you
get
Buggins
's
,
for
I
wo
n't
have
any
other
--
no
,
only
the
best
--
if
you
ca
n't
get
it
there
,
try
somewhere
else
--
yes
,
of
course
,
home-made
,
no
tinned
stuff
--
well
then
,
do
the
best
you
can
!
"
Finally
,
there
was
a
chink
of
coin
passing
from
paw
to
paw
,
the
field-mouse
was
provided
with
an
ample
basket
for
his
purchases
,
and
off
he
hurried
,
he
and
his
lantern
.
The
rest
of
the
field-mice
,
perched
in
a
row
on
the
settle
,
their
small
legs
swinging
,
gave
themselves
up
to
enjoyment
of
the
fire
,
and
toasted
their
chilblains
till
they
tingled
;
while
the
Mole
,
failing
to
draw
them
into
easy
conversation
,
plunged
into
family
history
and
made
each
of
them
recite
the
names
of
his
numerous
brothers
,
who
were
too
young
,
it
appeared
,
to
be
allowed
to
go
out
a-carolling
this
year
,
but
looked
forward
very
shortly
to
winning
the
parental
consent
.
The
Rat
,
meanwhile
,
was
busy
examining
the
label
on
one
of
the
beer-bottles
.
"
I
perceive
this
to
be
Old
Burton
,
"
he
remarked
approvingly
.
"
Sensible
Mole
!
The
very
thing
!
Now
we
shall
be
able
to
mull
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
heater
well
into
the
red
heart
of
the
fire
;
and
soon
every
field-mouse
was
sipping
and
coughing
and
choking
(
for
a
little
mulled
ale
goes
a
long
way
)
and
wiping
his
eyes
and
laughing
and
forgetting
he
had
ever
been
cold
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
very
well
they
do
it
,
too
!
They
gave
us
a
capital
one
last
year
,
about
a
field-mouse
who
was
captured
at
sea
by
a
Barbary
corsair
,
and
made
to
row
in
a
galley
;
and
when
he
escaped
and
got
home
again
,
his
lady-love
had
gone
into
a
convent
.
Here
,
you
!
You
were
in
it
,
I
remember
.
Get
up
and
recite
a
bit
.
"
