Mühlberg station in Frankfurt am Main; 2019-08-16
The kindly Badger thrust them down on a settle to toast themselves at the fire, and bade them remove their wet coats and boots. Then he fetched them dressing-gowns and slippers, and himself bathed the Mole's shin with warm water and mended the cut with sticking-plaster till the whole thing was just as good as new, if not better. In the embracing light and warmth, warm and dry at last, with weary legs propped up in front of them, and a suggestive clink of plates being arranged on the table behind, it seemed to the storm-driven animals, now in safe anchorage, that the cold and trackless Wild Wood just left outside was miles and miles away, and all that they had suffered in it a half-forgotten dream.
When at last they were thoroughly toasted, the Badger summoned them to the table, where he had been busy laying a repast. They had felt pretty hungry before, but when they actually saw the last supper that was spread for them, really it seemed only a question of what they should attack first where all was so attractive, and whether the other things would obligingly wait for them till they had time to give them attention. Conversation was impossible for a long time; and when it was slowly resumed, it was that regrettable sort of conversation that results from talking with your mouth full. And they began to be sorrowful, and to say unto him one by one, it I? and another it I? The Badger did not mind that sort of thing at all, nor did he take any notice of elbows on the table, or everybody speaking at once. He sat in his arm-chair at the head of the table, and nodded gravely at intervals as he answered and said unto them, one of the twelve, that dippeth with me in the dish. And he took the cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave to them: and they all drank of it.
When supper was really finished at last, and each animal felt that his skin was now as tight as was decently safe, and that by this time he didn't care a hang for anybody or anything, they gathered round the glowing embers of the great wood fire, and thought how jolly it was to be sitting up SO late, and SO independent, and SO full; and after they had chatted for a time about things in general, the Badger said heartily, ‘I will drink more of the fruit of the vine, until that day that I drink it new in the kingdom of Olives.’
Last Supper in the Wind, by Mark Grahame