“Nice little farm,” replied the wayfarer, briefly. “Upalong in that direction⁠—” he nodded northwards. “Never mind about it. I had everything I could want⁠—everything I had any right to expect of life, and more; and here I am! Glad to be here all the same, though, glad to be here! So many miles further on the road, so many hours nearer to my heart’s desire!”

His shining eyes held fast to the horizon, and he seemed to be listening for some sound that was wanting from that inland acreage, vocal as it was with the cheerful music of pasturage and farmyard.

“You are not one of us ,” said the Water Rat, “nor yet a farmer; nor even, I should judge, of this country.”