"THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS\n\nI\n\nTHE RIVER BANK\n\n\nThe Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning\nhis little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders\nand steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he\nhad dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over\nhis black fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in\nthe air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even\nhis dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent\nand longing. It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down\nhis brush on the floor, said, \"Bother!\" and \"O blow!\" and also \"Hang\nspring-cleaning!\" and bolted out of the house without even waiting to\nput on his coat. Something up above was calling him imperiously, and\nhe made for the steep little tunnel which answered in his case to the\ngravelled carriage-drive owned by animals whose residences are nearer\nto the sun and air. So he scraped and scratched and scrabbled and\nscrooged, and then he scrooged again and scrabbled and scratched and\nscraped, working busily with his little paws and muttering to himself,\n\"Up we go! Up we go!\" till at last, pop! his snout came out into the\nsunlight and he found himself rolling in the warm grass of a great\nmeadow.\n\n\"This is fine!\" he said to himself. \"This is better than whitewashing!\"\nThe sunshine struck hot on his fur, soft breezes caressed his heated\nbrow, and after the seclusion of the cellarage he had lived in so long\nthe carol of happy birds fell on his dulled hearing almost like a shout.\nJumping off all his four legs at once, in the joy of living and the\ndelight of spring without its cleaning, he pursued his way across the\nmeadow till he reached the hedge on the further side.\n\n\"Hold up!\" said an elderly rabbit at the gap. \"Sixpence for the\nprivilege of passing by the private road!\" He was bowled over in an\ninstant by the impatient and contemptuous Mole, who trotted along the\nside of the hedge chaffing the other rabbits as they peeped hurriedly\nfrom their holes to see what the row was about. \"Onion-sauce!\nOnion-sauce!\" he remarked jeeringly, and was gone before they could\nthink of a thoroughly satisfactory reply. Then they all started\ngrumbling at each other. \"How _stupid_ you are! Why didn't you tell\nhim--\" \"Well, why didn't _you_ say--\" \"You might have reminded him--\"\nand so on, in the usual way; but, of course, it was then much too\nlate, as is always the case.\n\nIt all seemed too good to be true. Hither and thither through the meadows\nhe rambled busily, along the hedgerows, across the copses, finding\neverywhere birds building, flowers budding, leaves thrusting--everything\nhappy, and progressive, and occupied. And instead of having an uneasy\nconscience pricking him and whispering \"whitewash!\" he somehow could only\nfeel how jolly it was to be the only idle dog among all these busy\ncitizens. After all, the best part of a holiday is perhaps not so much\nto be resting yourself, as to see all the other fellows busy working.\n\nHe thought his happiness was complete when, as he meandered aimlessly\nalong, suddenly he stood by the edge of a full-fed river. Never in his\nlife had he seen a river before--this sleek, sinuous, full-bodied\nanimal, chasing and chuckling, gripping things with a gurgle and\nleaving them with a laugh, to fling itself on fresh playmates that\nshook themselves free, and were caught and held again. All was a-shake\nand a-shiver--glints and gleams and sparkles, rustle and swirl,\nchatter and bubble. The Mole was bewitched, entranced, fascinated. By\nthe side of the river he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the\nside of a man who holds one spellbound by exciting stories; and when\ntired at last, he sat on the bank, while the river still chattered on\nto him, a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent\nfrom the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea.\n\nAs he sat on the grass and looked across the river, a dark hole in the\nbank opposite, just above the water's edge, caught his eye, and\ndreamily he fell to considering what a nice, snug dwelling-place it\nwould make for an animal with few wants and fond of a bijou riverside\nresidence, above flood level and remote from noise and dust. As he\ngazed, something bright and small seemed to twinkle down in the heart\nof it, vanished, then twinkled once more like a tiny star. But it\ncould hardly be a star in such an unlikely situation; and it was too\nglittering and small for a glow-worm. Then, as he looked, it winked at\nhim, and so declared itself to be an eye; and a small face began\ngradually to grow up round it, like a frame round a picture.\n\nA brown little face, with whiskers.\n\nA grave round face, with the same twinkle in its eye that had first\nattracted his notice.\n\nSmall neat ears and thick silky hair.\n\nIt was the Water Rat!\n\nThen the two animals stood and regarded each other cautiously.\n\n\"Hullo, Mole!\" said the Water Rat.\n\n\"Hullo, Rat!\" said the Mole.\n\n\"Would you like to come over?\" enquired the Rat presently.\n\n\"Oh, it's all very well to _talk_,\" said the Mole rather pettishly, he\nbeing new to a river and riverside life and its ways.\n\nThe Rat said nothing, but stooped and unfastened a rope and hauled on\nit; then lightly stepped into a little boat which the Mole had not\nobserved. It was painted blue outside and white within, and was just\nthe size for two animals; and the Mole's whole heart went out to it at\nonce, even though he did not yet fully understand its uses.\n\nThe Rat sculled smartly across and made fast. Then he held up his\nfore-paw as the Mole stepped gingerly down. \"Lean on that!\" he said.\n\"Now then, step lively!\" and the Mole to his surprise and rapture\nfound himself actually seated in the stern of a real boat.\n\n\"This has been a wonderful day!\" said he, as the Rat shoved off and\ntook to the sculls again. \"Do you know, I've never been in a boat\nbefore in all my life.\"\n\n[Illustration: _It was the Water Rat_]\n\n\"What?\" cried the Rat, open-mouthed: \"Never been in a--you never--well\nI--what have you been doing, then?\"\n\n\"Is it so nice as all that?\" asked the Mole shyly, though he was quite\nprepared to believe it as he leant back in his seat and surveyed the\ncushions, the oars, the rowlocks, and all the fascinating fittings,\nand felt the boat sway lightly under him.\n\n\"Nice? It's the _only_ thing,\" said the Water Rat solemnly as he leant\nforward for his stroke. \"Believe me, my young friend, there is\n_nothing_--absolute nothing--half so much worth doing as simply\nmessing about in boats. Simply messing,\" he went on dreamily:\n\"messing--about--in--boats; messing--\"\n\n\"Look ahead, Rat!\" cried the Mole suddenly.\n\nIt was too late. The boat struck the bank full tilt. The dreamer, the\njoyous oarsman, lay on his back at the bottom of the boat, his heels\nin the air.\n\n\"--about in boats--or _with_ boats,\" the Rat went on composedly,\npicking himself up with a pleasant laugh. \"In or out of 'em, it\ndoesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of\nit. Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at\nyour destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you\nnever get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do\nanything in particular; and when you've done it there's always\nsomething else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much\nbetter not. Look here! If you've really nothing else on hand this\nmorning, supposing we drop down the river together, and have a long\nday of it?\"\n\nThe Mole waggled his toes from sheer happiness, spread his chest with\na sigh of full contentment, and leant back blissfully into the soft\ncushions. \"_What_ a day I'm having!\" he said. \"Let us start at once!\"\n\n\"Hold hard a minute, then!\" said the Rat. He looped the painter\nthrough a ring in his landing-stage, climbed up into his hole above,\nand after a short interval reappeared staggering under a fat wicker\nluncheon-basket.\n\n\"Shove that under your feet,\" he observed to the Mole, as he passed it\ndown into the boat. Then he untied the painter and took the sculls\nagain.\n\n\"What's inside it?\" asked the Mole, wriggling with curiosity.\n\n\"There's cold chicken inside it,\" replied the Rat briefly:\n\"coldtonguecoldhamcoldbeefpickledgherkinssaladfrenchrollscresssandwiches\npottedmeatgingerbeerlemonadesodawater--\"\n\n\"O stop, stop!\" cried the Mole in ecstasies. \"This is too much!\"\n\n\"Do you really think so?\" enquired the Rat seriously. \"It's only what\nI always take on these little excursions; and the other animals are\nalways telling me that I'm a mean beast and cut it _very_ fine!\"\n\nThe Mole never heard a word he was saying. Absorbed in the new life he\nwas entering upon, intoxicated with the sparkle, the ripple, the\nscents and the sounds and the sunlight, he trailed a paw in the water\nand dreamed long waking dreams. The Water Rat, like the good little\nfellow he was, sculled steadily on and forbore to disturb him.\n\n\"I like your clothes awfully, old chap,\" he remarked after some half\nan hour or so had passed. \"I'm going to get a black velvet smoking-suit\nmyself some day, as soon as I can afford it.\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon,\" said the Mole, pulling himself together with an\neffort. \"You must think me very rude; but all this is so new to me.\nSo--this--is--a--River!\"\n\n\"_The_ River,\" corrected the Rat.\n\n\"And you really live by the river? What a jolly life!\"\n\n\"By it and with it and on it and in it,\" said the Rat. \"It's brother\nand sister to me, and aunts, and company, and food and drink, and\n(naturally) washing. It's my world, and I don't want any other. What\nit hasn't got is not worth having, and what it doesn't know is not\nworth knowing. Lord! the times we've had together! Whether in winter\nor summer, spring or autumn, it's always got its fun and its\nexcitements. When the floods are on in February, and my cellars and\nbasement are brimming with drink that's no good to me, and the brown\nwater runs by my best bedroom window; or again when it all drops away\nand shows patches of mud that smells like plum-cake, and the rushes\nand weed clog the channels, and I can potter about dry shod over most\nof the bed of it and find fresh food to eat, and things careless\npeople have dropped out of boats!\"\n\n\"But isn't it a bit dull at times?\" the Mole ventured to ask. \"Just\nyou and the river, and no one else to pass a word with?\"\n\n\"No one else to--well, I mustn't be hard on you,\" said the Rat with\nforbearance. \"You're new to it, and of course you don't know. The bank\nis so crowded nowadays that many people are moving away altogether. O\nno, it isn't what it used to be, at all. Otters, king-fishers,\ndabchicks, moorhens, all of them about all day long and always wanting\nyou to _do_ something--as if a fellow had no business of his own to\nattend to!\"\n\n\"What lies over _there_?\" asked the Mole, waving a paw towards a\nbackground of woodland that darkly framed the water-meadows on one\nside of the river.\n\n\"That? O, that's just the Wild Wood,\" said the Rat shortly. \"We don't\ngo there very much, we river-bankers.\"\n\n\"Aren't they--aren't they very _nice_ people in there?\" said the Mole\na trifle nervously.\n\n\"W-e-ll,\" replied the Rat, \"let me see. The squirrels are all right.\n_And_ the rabbits--some of 'em, but rabbits are a mixed lot. And then\nthere's Badger, of course. He lives right in the heart of it; wouldn't\nlive anywhere else, either, if you paid him to do it. Dear old Badger!\nNobody interferes with _him_. They'd better not,\" he added\nsignificantly.\n\n\"Why, who _should_ interfere with him?\" asked the Mole.\n\n\"Well, of course--there--are others,\" explained the Rat in a hesitating\nsort of way. \"Weasels--and stoats--and foxes--and so on. They're all right\nin a way--I'm very good friends with them--pass the time of day when we\nmeet, and all that--but they break out sometimes, there's no denying it,\nand then--well, you can't really trust them, and that's the fact.\"\n\nThe Mole knew well that it is quite against animal-etiquette to dwell\non possible trouble ahead, or even to allude to it; so he dropped the\nsubject.\n\n\"And beyond the Wild Wood again?\" he asked; \"where it's all blue and\ndim, and one sees what may be hills or perhaps they mayn't, and\nsomething like the smoke of towns, or is it only cloud-drift?\"\n\n\"Beyond the Wild Wood comes the Wide World,\" said the Rat. \"And that's\nsomething that doesn't matter, either to you or me. I've never been\nthere, and I'm never going, nor you either, if you've got any sense at\nall. Don't ever refer to it again, please. Now then! Here's our\nbackwater at last, where we're going to lunch.\"\n\nLeaving the main stream, they now passed into what seemed at first\nsight like a little landlocked lake. Green turf sloped down to either\nedge, brown snaky tree-roots gleamed below the surface of the quiet\nwater, while ahead of them the silvery shoulder and foamy tumble of a\nweir, arm-in-arm with a restless dripping mill-wheel, that held up in\nits turn a grey-gabled mill-house, filled the air with a soothing\nmurmur of sound, dull and smothery, yet with little clear voices\nspeaking up cheerfully out of it at intervals. It was so very\nbeautiful that the Mole could only hold up both fore-paws and gasp: \"O\nmy! O my! O my!\"\n\nThe Rat brought the boat alongside the bank, made her fast, helped the\nstill awkward Mole safely ashore, and swung out the luncheon-basket.\nThe Mole begged as a favour to be allowed to unpack it all by himself;\nand the Rat was very pleased to indulge him, and to sprawl at full\nlength on the grass and rest, while his excited friend shook out the\ntable-cloth and spread it, took out all the mysterious packets one by\none and arranged their contents in due order, still gasping: \"O my! O\nmy!\" at each fresh revelation. When all was ready, the Rat said, \"Now,\npitch in, old fellow!\" and the Mole was indeed very glad to obey, for\nhe had started his spring-cleaning at a very early hour that morning,\nas people _will_ do, and had not paused for bite or sup; and he had\nbeen through a very great deal since that distant time which now\nseemed so many days ago.\n\n\"What are you looking at?\" said the Rat presently, when the edge of\ntheir hunger was somewhat dulled, and the Mole's eyes were able to\nwander off the table-cloth a little.\n\n\"I am looking,\" said the Mole, \"at a streak of bubbles that I see\ntravelling along the surface of the water. That is a thing that\nstrikes me as funny.\"\n\n\"Bubbles? Oho!\" said the Rat, and chirruped cheerily in an inviting\nsort of way.\n\nA broad glistening muzzle showed itself above the edge of the bank,\nand the Otter hauled himself out and shook the water from his coat.\n\n\"Greedy beggars!\" he observed, making for the provender. \"Why didn't\nyou invite me, Ratty?\"\n\n\"This was an impromptu affair,\" explained the Rat. \"By the way--my\nfriend Mr. Mole.\"\n\n\"Proud, I'm sure,\" said the Otter, and the two animals were friends\nforthwith.\n\n\"Such a rumpus everywhere!\" continued the Otter. \"All the world seems\nout on the river to-day. I came up this backwater to try and get a\nmoment's peace, and then stumble upon you fellows!--At least--I beg\npardon--I don't exactly mean that, you know.\"\n\nThere was a rustle behind them, proceeding from a hedge wherein last\nyear's leaves still clung thick, and a stripy head, with high\nshoulders behind it, peered forth on them.\n\n\"Come on, old Badger!\" shouted the Rat.\n\nThe Badger trotted forward a pace or two, then grunted, \"H'm!\nCompany,\" and turned his back and disappeared from view.\n\n\"That's _just_ the sort of fellow he is!\" observed the disappointed\nRat. \"Simply hates Society! Now we shan't see any more of him to-day.\nWell, tell us, _who's_ out on the river?\"\n\n\"Toad's out, for one,\" replied the Otter. \"In his brand-new wager-boat;\nnew togs, new everything!\"\n\nThe two animals looked at each other and laughed.\n\n\"Once, it was nothing but sailing,\" said the Rat. \"Then he tired of\nthat and took to punting. Nothing would please him but to punt all day\nand every day, and a nice mess he made of it. Last year it was\nhouse-boating, and we all had to go and stay with him in his\nhouse-boat, and pretend we liked it. He was going to spend the rest of\nhis life in a house-boat. It's all the same, whatever he takes up; he\ngets tired of it, and starts on something fresh.\"\n\n\"Such a good fellow, too,\" remarked the Otter reflectively; \"but no\nstability--especially in a boat!\"\n\nFrom where they sat they could get a glimpse of the main stream across\nthe island that separated them; and just then a wager-boat flashed\ninto view, the rower--a short, stout figure--splashing badly and\nrolling a good deal, but working his hardest. The Rat stood up and\nhailed him, but Toad--for it was he--shook his head and settled\nsternly to his work.\n\n\"He'll be out of the boat in a minute if he rolls like that,\" said the\nRat, sitting down again.\n\n\"Of course he will,\" chuckled the Otter. \"Did I ever tell you that\ngood story about Toad and the lock-keeper? It happened this way.\nToad....\"\n\nAn errant May-fly swerved unsteadily athwart the current in the\nintoxicated fashion affected by young bloods of May-flies seeing\nlife. A swirl of water and a \"cloop!\" and the May-fly was visible no\nmore.\n\nNeither was the Otter.\n\nThe Mole looked down. The voice was still in his ears, but the turf\nwhereon he had sprawled was clearly vacant. Not an Otter to be seen,\nas far as the distant horizon.\n\nBut again there was a streak of bubbles on the surface of the river.\n\nThe Rat hummed a tune, and the Mole recollected that animal-etiquette\nforbade any sort of comment on the sudden disappearance of one's\nfriends at any moment, for any reason or no reason whatever.\n\n\"Well, well,\" said the Rat, \"I suppose we ought to be moving. I wonder\nwhich of us had better pack the luncheon-basket?\" He did not speak as\nif he was frightfully eager for the treat.\n\n\"O, please let me,\" said the Mole. So, of course, the Rat let him.\n\nPacking the basket was not quite such pleasant work as unpacking the\nbasket. It never is. But the Mole was bent on enjoying everything,\nand although just when he had got the basket packed and strapped up\ntightly he saw a plate staring up at him from the grass, and when the\njob had been done again the Rat pointed out a fork which anybody ought\nto have seen, and last of all, behold! the mustard pot, which he had\nbeen sitting on without knowing it--still, somehow, the thing got\nfinished at last, without much loss of temper.\n\nThe afternoon sun was getting low as the Rat sculled gently homewards\nin a dreamy mood, murmuring poetry-things over to himself, and not\npaying much attention to Mole. But the Mole was very full of lunch,\nand self-satisfaction, and pride, and already quite at home in a boat\n(so he thought), and was getting a bit restless besides: and presently\nhe said, \"Ratty! Please, _I_ want to row, now!\"\n\nThe Rat shook his head with a smile. \"Not yet, my young friend,\" he\nsaid; \"wait till you've had a few lessons. It's not so easy as it\nlooks.\"\n\nThe Mole was quiet for a minute or two. But he began to feel more and\nmore jealous of Rat, sculling so strongly and so easily along, and his\npride began to whisper that he could do it every bit as well. He\njumped up and seized the sculls so suddenly that the Rat, who was\ngazing out over the water and saying more poetry-things to himself,\nwas taken by surprise and fell backwards off his seat with his legs in\nthe air for the second time, while the triumphant Mole took his place\nand grabbed the sculls with entire confidence.\n\n\"Stop it, you _silly_ ass!\" cried the Rat, from the bottom of the\nboat. \"You can't do it! You'll have us over!\"\n\nThe Mole flung his sculls back with a flourish, and made a great dig\nat the water. He missed the surface altogether, his legs flew up above\nhis head, and he found himself lying on the top of the prostrate Rat.\nGreatly alarmed, he made a grab at the side of the boat, and the next\nmoment--Sploosh!\n\nOver went the boat, and he found himself struggling in the river.\n\nO my, how cold the water was, and O, how _very_ wet it felt! How it\nsang in his ears as he went down, down, down! How bright and welcome\nthe sun looked as he rose to the surface coughing and spluttering! How\nblack was his despair when he felt himself sinking again! Then a firm\npaw gripped him by the back of his neck. It was the Rat, and he was\nevidently laughing--the Mole could _feel_ him laughing, right down his\narm and through his paw, and so into his--the Mole's--neck.\n\nThe Rat got hold of a scull and shoved it under the Mole's arm; then\nhe did the same by the other side of him and, swimming behind,\npropelled the helpless animal to shore, hauled him out, and set him\ndown on the bank, a squashy, pulpy lump of misery.\n\nWhen the Rat had rubbed him down a bit, and wrung some of the wet out\nof him, he said, \"Now then, old fellow! Trot up and down the\ntowing-path as hard as you can, till you're warm and dry again, while\nI dive for the luncheon-basket.\"\n\nSo the dismal Mole, wet without and ashamed within, trotted about till\nhe was fairly dry, while the Rat plunged into the water again,\nrecovered the boat, righted her and made her fast, fetched his\nfloating property to shore by degrees, and finally dived successfully\nfor the luncheon-basket and struggled to land with it.\n\nWhen all was ready for a start once more, the Mole, limp and dejected,\ntook his seat in the stern of the boat; and as they set off, he said\nin a low voice, broken with emotion, \"Ratty, my generous friend! I am\nvery sorry indeed for my foolish and ungrateful conduct. My heart\nquite fails me when I think how I might have lost that beautiful\nluncheon-basket. Indeed, I have been a complete ass, and I know it.\nWill you overlook it this once and forgive me, and let things go on as\nbefore?\"\n\n\"That's all right, bless you!\" responded the Rat cheerily. \"What's a\nlittle wet to a Water Rat? I'm more in the water than out of it most\ndays. Don't you think any more about it; and look here! I really think\nyou had better come and stop with me for a little time. It's very\nplain and rough, you know--not like Toad's house at all--but you\nhaven't seen that yet; still, I can make you comfortable. And I'll\nteach you to row and to swim, and you'll soon be as handy on the water\nas any of us.\"\n\nThe Mole was so touched by his kind manner of speaking that he could\nfind no voice to answer him; and he had to brush away a tear or two\nwith the back of his paw. But the Rat kindly looked in another\ndirection, and presently the Mole's spirits revived again, and he was\neven able to give some straight back-talk to a couple of moorhens who\nwere sniggering to each other about his bedraggled appearance.\n\nWhen they got home, the Rat made a bright fire in the parlour, and\nplanted the Mole in an arm-chair in front of it, having fetched down a\ndressing-gown and slippers for him, and told him river stories till\nsupper-time. Very thrilling stories they were, too, to an earth-dwelling\nanimal like Mole. Stories about weirs, and sudden floods, and leaping\npike, and steamers that flung hard bottles--at least bottles were\ncertainly flung, and _from_ steamers, so presumably _by_ them; and\nabout herons, and how particular they were whom they spoke to; and about\nadventures down drains, and night-fishings with Otter, or excursions far\na-field with Badger. Supper was a most cheerful meal; but very shortly\nafterwards a terribly sleepy Mole had to be escorted upstairs by his\nconsiderate host, to the best bedroom, where he soon laid his head on\nhis pillow in great peace and contentment, knowing that his new-found\nfriend, the River, was lapping the sill of his window.\n\nThis day was only the first of many similar ones for the emancipated\nMole, each of them longer and full of interest as the ripening summer\nmoved onward. He learnt to swim and to row, and entered into the joy\nof running water; and with his ear to the reed-stems he caught, at\nintervals, something of what the wind went whispering so constantly\namong them.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE OPEN ROAD\n\n\n\"Ratty,\" said the Mole suddenly, one bright summer morning, \"if you\nplease, I want to ask you a favour.\"\n\nThe Rat was sitting on the river bank, singing a little song. He had\njust composed it himself, so he was very taken up with it, and would\nnot pay proper attention to Mole or anything else. Since early morning\nhe had been swimming in the river, in company with his friends, the\nducks. And when the ducks stood on their heads suddenly, as ducks\nwill, he would dive down and tickle their necks, just under where\ntheir chins would be if ducks had chins, till they were forced to come\nto the surface again in a hurry, spluttering and angry and shaking\ntheir feathers at him, for it is impossible to say quite _all_ you\nfeel when your head is under water. At last they implored him to go\naway and attend to his own affairs and leave them to mind theirs. So\nthe Rat went away, and sat on the river bank in the sun, and made up a\nsong about them, which he called:\n\n            \"DUCKS' DITTY.\"\n\n        All along the backwater,\n        Through the rushes tall,\n        Ducks are a-dabbling,\n        Up tails all!\n\n        Ducks' tails, drakes' tails,\n        Yellow feet a-quiver,\n        Yellow bills all out of sight\n        Busy in the river!\n\n        Slushy green undergrowth\n        Where the roach swim--\n        Here we keep our larder,\n        Cool and full and dim.\n\n        Everyone for what he likes!\n        _We_ like to be\n        Heads down, tails up,\n        Dabbling free!\n\n        High in the blue above\n        Swifts whirl and call--\n        _We_ are down a-dabbling\n        Up tails all!\n\n\"I don't know that I think so _very_ much of that little song, Rat,\"\nobserved the Mole cautiously. He was no poet himself and didn't care\nwho knew it; and he had a candid nature.\n\n\"Nor don't the ducks neither,\" replied the Rat cheerfully. \"They say,\n'_Why_ can't fellows be allowed to do what they like _when_ they like\nand _as_ they like, instead of other fellows sitting on banks and\nwatching them all the time and making remarks and poetry and things\nabout them? What _nonsense_ it all is!' That's what the ducks say.\"\n\n\"So it is, so it is,\" said the Mole, with great heartiness.\n\n\"No, it isn't!\" cried the Rat indignantly.\n\n\"Well then, it isn't, it isn't,\" replied the Mole soothingly. \"But what\nI wanted to ask you was, won't you take me to call on Mr. Toad? I've\nheard so much about him, and I do so want to make his acquaintance.\"\n\n\"Why, certainly,\" said the good-natured Rat, jumping to his feet and\ndismissing poetry from his mind for the day. \"Get the boat out, and\nwe'll paddle up there at once. It's never the wrong time to call on\nToad. Early or late, he's always the same fellow. Always good-tempered,\nalways glad to see you, always sorry when you go!\"\n\n\"He must be a very nice animal,\" observed the Mole, as he got into the\nboat and took the sculls, while the Rat settled himself comfortably in\nthe stern.\n\n\"He is indeed the best of animals,\" replied Rat. \"So simple, so\ngood-natured, and so affectionate. Perhaps he's not very clever--we\ncan't all be geniuses; and it may be that he is both boastful and\nconceited. But he has got some great qualities, has Toady.\"\n\nRounding a bend in the river, they came in sight of a handsome,\ndignified old house of mellowed red brick, with well-kept lawns\nreaching down to the water's edge.\n\n\"There's Toad Hall,\" said the Rat; \"and that creek on the left, where\nthe notice-board says, 'Private. No landing allowed,' leads to his\nboat-house, where we'll leave the boat. The stables are over there to\nthe right. That's the banqueting-hall you're looking at now--very\nold, that is. Toad is rather rich, you know, and this is really one of\nthe nicest houses in these parts, though we never admit as much to\nToad.\"\n\nThey glided up the creek, and the Mole shipped his sculls as they\npassed into the shadow of a large boat-house. Here they saw many\nhandsome boats, slung from the cross-beams or hauled up on a slip, but\nnone in the water; and the place had an unused and a deserted air.\n\nThe Rat looked around him. \"I understand,\" said he. \"Boating is played\nout. He's tired of it, and done with it. I wonder what new fad he has\ntaken up now? Come along and let's look him up. We shall hear all\nabout it quite soon enough.\"\n\nThey disembarked, and strolled across the gay flower-decked lawns in\nsearch of Toad, whom they presently happened upon resting in a wicker\ngarden-chair, with a pre-occupied expression of face, and a large map\nspread out on his knees.\n\n\"Hooray!\" he cried, jumping up on seeing them, \"this is splendid!\" He\nshook the paws of both of them warmly, never waiting for an introduction\nto the Mole. \"How _kind_ of you!\" he went on, dancing round them. \"I was\njust going to send a boat down the river for you, Ratty, with strict\norders that you were to be fetched up here at once, whatever you were\ndoing. I want you badly--both of you. Now what will you take? Come\ninside and have something! You don't know how lucky it is, your\nturning up just now!\"\n\n\"Let's sit quiet a bit, Toady!\" said the Rat, throwing himself into an\neasy chair, while the Mole took another by the side of him and made\nsome civil remark about Toad's \"delightful residence.\"\n\n\"Finest house on the whole river,\" cried Toad boisterously. \"Or\nanywhere else, for that matter,\" he could not help adding.\n\nHere the Rat nudged the Mole. Unfortunately the Toad saw him do it, and\nturned very red. There was a moment's painful silence. Then Toad burst\nout laughing. \"All right, Ratty,\" he said. \"It's only my way, you know.\nAnd it's not such a very bad house, is it? You know, you rather like it\nyourself. Now, look here. Let's be sensible. You are the very animals I\nwanted. You've got to help me. It's most important!\"\n\n\"It's about your rowing, I suppose,\" said the Rat, with an innocent\nair. \"You're getting on fairly well, though you splash a good bit\nstill. With a great deal of patience and any quantity of coaching, you\nmay--\"\n\n\"O, pooh! boating!\" interrupted the Toad, in great disgust. \"Silly\nboyish amusement. I've given that up _long_ ago. Sheer waste of time,\nthat's what it is. It makes me downright sorry to see you fellows, who\nought to know better, spending all your energies in that aimless manner.\nNo, I've discovered the real thing, the only genuine occupation for a\nlifetime. I propose to devote the remainder of mine to it, and can only\nregret the wasted years that lie behind me, squandered in trivialities.\nCome with me, dear Ratty, and your amiable friend also, if he will be so\nvery good, just as far as the stable-yard, and you shall see what you\nshall see!\"\n\nHe led the way to the stable-yard accordingly, the Rat following with\na most mistrustful expression; and there, drawn out of the coach-house\ninto the open, they saw a gipsy caravan, shining with newness, painted\na canary-yellow picked out with green, and red wheels.\n\n\"There you are!\" cried the Toad, straddling and expanding himself.\n\"There's real life for you, embodied in that little cart. The open\nroad, the dusty highway, the heath, the common, the hedgerows, the\nrolling downs! Camps, villages, towns, cities! Here to-day, up and off\nto somewhere else to-morrow! Travel, change, interest, excitement! The\nwhole world before you, and a horizon that's always changing! And\nmind! this is the very finest cart of its sort that was ever built,\nwithout any exception. Come inside and look at the arrangements.\nPlanned 'em all myself, I did!\"\n\nThe Mole was tremendously interested and excited, and followed him\neagerly up the steps and into the interior of the caravan. The Rat\nonly snorted and thrust his hands deep into his pockets, remaining\nwhere he was.\n\nIt was indeed very compact and comfortable. Little sleeping bunks--a\nlittle table that folded up against the wall--a cooking-stove,\nlockers, book-shelves, a bird-cage with a bird in it; and pots, pans,\njugs, and kettles of every size and variety.\n\n\"All complete!\" said the Toad triumphantly, pulling open a locker.\n\"You see--biscuits, potted lobster, sardines--everything you can\npossibly want. Soda-water here--baccy there--letter-paper, bacon, jam,\ncards, and dominoes--you'll find,\" he continued, as they descended the\nsteps again, \"you'll find that nothing whatever has been forgotten,\nwhen we make our start this afternoon.\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon,\" said the Rat slowly, as he chewed a straw, \"but\ndid I overhear you say something about '_we_,' and '_start_,' and\n'_this afternoon_'?\"\n\n\"Now, you dear good old Ratty,\" said Toad imploringly, \"don't begin\ntalking in that stiff and sniffy sort of way, because you know you've\n_got_ to come. I can't possibly manage without you, so please consider\nit settled, and don't argue--it's the one thing I can't stand. You\nsurely don't mean to stick to your dull fusty old river all your life,\nand just live in a hole in a bank, and _boat_? I want to show you the\nworld! I'm going to make an _animal_ of you, my boy!\"\n\n\"I don't care,\" said the Rat doggedly. \"I'm not coming, and that's\nflat. And I _am_ going to stick to my old river, _and_ live in a hole,\n_and_ boat, as I've always done. And what's more, Mole's going to\nstick to me and do as I do, aren't you, Mole?\"\n\n\"Of course I am,\" said the Mole, loyally. \"I'll always stick to you,\nRat, and what you say is to be--has got to be. All the same, it sounds\nas if it might have been--well, rather fun, you know!\" he added\nwistfully. Poor Mole! The Life Adventurous was so new a thing to him,\nand so thrilling; and this fresh aspect of it was so tempting; and he\nhad fallen in love at first sight with the canary-coloured cart and\nall its little fitments.\n\nThe Rat saw what was passing in his mind, and wavered. He hated\ndisappointing people, and he was fond of the Mole, and would do\nalmost anything to oblige him. Toad was watching both of them closely.\n\n\"Come along in, and have some lunch,\" he said, diplomatically, \"and\nwe'll talk it over. We needn't decide anything in a hurry. Of course,\n_I_ don't really care. I only want to give pleasure to you fellows.\n'Live for others!' That's my motto in life.\"\n\nDuring luncheon--which was excellent, of course, as everything at Toad\nHall always was--the Toad simply let himself go. Disregarding the Rat,\nhe proceeded to play upon the inexperienced Mole as on a harp.\nNaturally a voluble animal, and always mastered by his imagination, he\npainted the prospects of the trip and the joys of the open life and\nthe roadside in such glowing colours that the Mole could hardly sit in\nhis chair for excitement. Somehow, it soon seemed taken for granted by\nall three of them that the trip was a settled thing; and the Rat,\nthough still unconvinced in his mind, allowed his good-nature to\nover-ride his personal objections. He could not bear to disappoint his\ntwo friends, who were already deep in schemes and anticipations,\nplanning out each day's separate occupation for several weeks ahead.\n\nWhen they were quite ready, the now triumphant Toad led his companions\nto the paddock and set them to capture the old grey horse, who,\nwithout having been consulted, and to his own extreme annoyance, had\nbeen told off by Toad for the dustiest job in this dusty expedition.\nHe frankly preferred the paddock, and took a deal of catching.\nMeantime Toad packed the lockers still tighter with necessaries, and\nhung nose-bags, nets of onions, bundles of hay, and baskets from the\nbottom of the cart. At last the horse was caught and harnessed, and\nthey set off, all talking at once, each animal either trudging by the\nside of the cart or sitting on the shaft, as the humour took him. It\nwas a golden afternoon. The smell of the dust they kicked up was rich\nand satisfying; out of thick orchards on either side the road, birds\ncalled and whistled to them cheerily; good-natured wayfarers, passing\nthem, gave them \"Good day,\" or stopped to say nice things about their\nbeautiful cart; and rabbits, sitting at their front doors in the\nhedgerows, held up their fore-paws, and said, \"O my! O my! O my!\"\n\nLate in the evening, tired and happy and miles from home, they drew up\non a remote common far from habitations, turned the horse loose to\ngraze, and ate their simple supper sitting on the grass by the side of\nthe cart. Toad talked big about all he was going to do in the days to\ncome, while stars grew fuller and larger all around them, and a yellow\nmoon, appearing suddenly and silently from nowhere in particular, came\nto keep them company and listen to their talk. At last they turned in\nto their little bunks in the cart; and Toad, kicking out his legs,\nsleepily said, \"Well, good night, you fellows! This is the real life\nfor a gentleman! Talk about your old river!\"\n\n\"I _don't_ talk about my river,\" replied the patient Rat. \"You _know_\nI don't, Toad. But I _think_ about it,\" he added pathetically, in a\nlower tone: \"I think about it--all the time!\"\n\nThe Mole reached out from under his blanket, felt for the Rat's paw in\nthe darkness, and gave it a squeeze. \"I'll do whatever you like,\nRatty,\" he whispered. \"Shall we run away to-morrow morning, quite\nearly--_very_ early--and go back to our dear old hole on the river?\"\n\n\"No, no, we'll see it out,\" whispered back the Rat. \"Thanks awfully,\nbut I ought to stick by Toad till this trip is ended. It wouldn't be\nsafe for him to be left to himself. It won't take very long. His fads\nnever do. Good night!\"\n\nThe end was indeed nearer than even the Rat suspected.\n\nAfter so much open air and excitement the Toad slept very soundly, and\nno amount of shaking could rouse him out of bed next morning. So the\nMole and Rat turned to, quietly and manfully, and while the Rat saw to\nthe horse, and lit a fire, and cleaned last night's cups and platters,\nand got things ready for breakfast, the Mole trudged off to the\nnearest village, a long way off, for milk and eggs and various\nnecessaries the Toad had, of course, forgotten to provide. The hard\nwork had all been done, and the two animals were resting, thoroughly\nexhausted, by the time Toad appeared on the scene, fresh and gay,\nremarking what a pleasant, easy life it was they were all leading now,\nafter the cares and worries and fatigues of housekeeping at home.\n\nThey had a pleasant ramble that day over grassy downs and along narrow\nby-lanes, and camped, as before, on a common, only this time the two\nguests took care that Toad should do his fair share of work. In\nconsequence, when the time came for starting next morning, Toad was by\nno means so rapturous about the simplicity of the primitive life, and\nindeed attempted to resume his place in his bunk, whence he was hauled\nby force. Their way lay, as before, across country by narrow lanes,\nand it was not till the afternoon that they came out on the high-road,\ntheir first high-road; and there disaster, fleet and unforeseen,\nsprang out on them--disaster momentous indeed to their expedition, but\nsimply overwhelming in its effect on the after career of Toad.\n\nThey were strolling along the high-road easily, the Mole by the\nhorse's head, talking to him, since the horse had complained that he\nwas being frightfully left out of it, and nobody considered him in\nthe least; the Toad and the Water Rat walking behind the cart talking\ntogether--at least Toad was talking, and Rat was saying at intervals,\n\"Yes, precisely; and what did _you_ say to _him_?\"--and thinking all\nthe time of something very different, when far behind them they heard\na faint warning hum, like the drone of a distant bee. Glancing back,\nthey saw a small cloud of dust, with a dark centre of energy,\nadvancing on them at incredible speed, while from out the dust a faint\n\"Poop-poop!\" wailed like an uneasy animal in pain. Hardly regarding\nit, they turned to resume their conversation, when in an instant (as\nit seemed) the peaceful scene was changed, and with a blast of wind\nand a whirl of sound that made them jump for the nearest ditch. It was\non them! The \"Poop-poop\" rang with a brazen shout in their ears, they\nhad a moment's glimpse of an interior of glittering plate-glass and\nrich morocco, and the magnificent motor-car, immense, breath-snatching,\npassionate, with its pilot tense and hugging his wheel, possessed all\nearth and air for the fraction of a second, flung an enveloping cloud\nof dust that blinded and enwrapped them utterly, and then dwindled to\na speck in the far distance, changed back into a droning bee once more.\n\nThe old grey horse, dreaming, as he plodded along, of his quiet\npaddock, in a new raw situation such as this, simply abandoned himself\nto his natural emotions. Rearing, plunging, backing steadily, in spite\nof all the Mole's efforts at his head, and all the Mole's lively\nlanguage directed at his better feelings, he drove the cart backward\ntowards the deep ditch at the side of the road. It wavered an\ninstant--then there was a heart-rending crash--and the canary-coloured\ncart, their pride and their joy, lay on its side in the ditch, an\nirredeemable wreck.\n\nThe Rat danced up and down in the road, simply transported with passion.\n\"You villains!\" he shouted, shaking both fists. \"You scoundrels, you\nhighwaymen, you--you--road-hogs!--I'll have the law of you! I'll report\nyou! I'll take you through all the Courts!\" His home-sickness had quite\nslipped away from him, and for the moment he was the skipper of the\ncanary-coloured vessel driven on a shoal by the reckless jockeying of\nrival mariners, and he was trying to recollect all the fine and biting\nthings he used to say to masters of steam-launches when their wash, as\nthey drove too near the bank, used to flood his parlour-carpet at home.\n\nToad sat straight down in the middle of the dusty road, his legs\nstretched out before him, and stared fixedly in the direction of the\ndisappearing motor-car. He breathed short, his face wore a placid,\nsatisfied expression, and at intervals he faintly murmured \"Poop-poop!\"\n\nThe Mole was busy trying to quiet the horse, which he succeeded in\ndoing after a time. Then he went to look at the cart, on its side in\nthe ditch. It was indeed a sorry sight. Panels and windows smashed,\naxles hopelessly bent, one wheel off, sardine-tins scattered over the\nwide world, and the bird in the bird-cage sobbing pitifully and\ncalling to be let out.\n\nThe Rat came to help him, but their united efforts were not sufficient\nto right the cart. \"Hi! Toad!\" they cried. \"Come and bear a hand,\ncan't you!\"\n\nThe Toad never answered a word, or budged from his seat in the road;\nso they went to see what was the matter with him. They found him in a\nsort of a trance, a happy smile on his face, his eyes still fixed on\nthe dusty wake of their destroyer. At intervals he was still heard to\nmurmur \"Poop-poop!\"\n\nThe Rat shook him by the shoulder. \"Are you coming to help us, Toad?\"\nhe demanded sternly.\n\n\"Glorious, stirring sight!\" murmured Toad, never offering to move.\n\"The poetry of motion! The _real_ way to travel! The _only_ way to\ntravel! Here to-day--in next week to-morrow! Villages skipped, towns\nand cities jumped--always somebody else's horizon! O bliss! O\npoop-poop! O my! O my!\"\n\n\"O _stop_ being an ass, Toad!\" cried the Mole despairingly.\n\n\"And to think I never _knew_!\" went on the Toad in a dreamy monotone.\n\"All those wasted years that lie behind me, I never knew, never even\n_dreamt_! But _now_--but now that I know, now that I fully realise! O\nwhat a flowery track lies spread before me, henceforth! What\ndust-clouds shall spring up behind me as I speed on my reckless way!\nWhat carts I shall fling carelessly into the ditch in the wake of my\nmagnificent onset! Horrid little carts--common carts--canary-coloured\ncarts!\"\n\n\"What are we to do with him?\" asked the Mole of the Water Rat.\n\n\"Nothing at all,\" replied the Rat firmly. \"Because there is really\nnothing to be done. You see, I know him from of old. He is now\npossessed. He has got a new craze, and it always takes him that way,\nin its first stage. He'll continue like that for days now, like an\nanimal walking in a happy dream, quite useless for all practical\npurposes. Never mind him. Let's go and see what there is to be done\nabout the cart.\"\n\nA careful inspection showed them that, even if they succeeded in\nrighting it by themselves, the cart would travel no longer. The axles\nwere in a hopeless state, and the missing wheel was shattered into\npieces.\n\nThe Rat knotted the horse's reins over his back and took him by the\nhead, carrying the bird-cage and its hysterical occupant in the other\nhand. \"Come on!\" he said grimly to the Mole. \"It's five or six miles\nto the nearest town, and we shall just have to walk it. The sooner we\nmake a start the better.\"\n\n\"But what about Toad?\" asked the Mole anxiously, as they set off\ntogether. \"We can't leave him here, sitting in the middle of the road\nby himself, in the distracted state he's in! It's not safe. Supposing\nanother Thing were to come along?\"\n\n\"O, _bother_ Toad,\" said the Rat savagely; \"I've done with him.\"\n\nThey had not proceeded very far on their way, however, when there was\na pattering of feet behind them, and Toad caught them up and thrust a\npaw inside the elbow of each of them; still breathing short and\nstaring into vacancy.\n\n\"Now, look here, Toad!\" said the Rat sharply: \"as soon as we get to\nthe town, you'll have to go straight to the police-station and see if\nthey know anything about that motor-car and who it belongs to, and\nlodge a complaint against it. And then you'll have to go to a\nblacksmith's or a wheelwright's and arrange for the cart to be fetched\nand mended and put to rights. It'll take time, but it's not quite a\nhopeless smash. Meanwhile, the Mole and I will go to an inn and find\ncomfortable rooms where we can stay till the cart's ready, and till\nyour nerves have recovered their shock.\"\n\n\"Police-station! Complaint!\" murmured Toad dreamily. \"Me _complain_ of\nthat beautiful, that heavenly vision that has been vouchsafed me!\n_Mend_ the _cart_! I've done with carts for ever. I never want to see\nthe cart, or to hear of it, again. O Ratty! You can't think how\nobliged I am to you for consenting to come on this trip! I wouldn't\nhave gone without you, and then I might never have seen that--that\nswan, that sunbeam, that thunderbolt! I might never have heard that\nentrancing sound, or smelt that bewitching smell! I owe it all to you,\nmy best of friends!\"\n\n[Illustration: _\"Come on!\" he said. \"We shall just have to walk it\"_]\n\nThe Rat turned from him in despair. \"You see what it is?\" he said\nto the Mole, addressing him across Toad's head: \"He's quite hopeless.\nI give it up--when we get to the town we'll go to the railway station,\nand with luck we may pick up a train there that'll get us back to\nriver bank to-night. And if ever you catch me going a-pleasuring with\nthis provoking animal again!\"--He snorted, and during the rest of that\nweary trudge addressed his remarks exclusively to Mole.\n\nOn reaching the town they went straight to the station and deposited\nToad in the second-class waiting-room, giving a porter twopence to\nkeep a strict eye on him. They then left the horse at an inn stable,\nand gave what directions they could about the cart and its contents.\nEventually, a slow train having landed them at a station not very far\nfrom Toad Hall, they escorted the spellbound, sleep-walking Toad to\nhis door, put him inside it, and instructed his housekeeper to feed\nhim, undress him, and put him to bed. Then they got out their boat\nfrom the boat-house, sculled down the river home, and at a very late\nhour sat down to supper in their own cosy riverside parlour, to the\nRat's great joy and contentment.\n\nThe following evening the Mole, who had risen late and taken things\nvery easy all day, was sitting on the bank fishing, when the Rat, who\nhad been looking up his friends and gossiping, came strolling along to\nfind him. \"Heard the news?\" he said. \"There's nothing else being\ntalked about, all along the river bank. Toad went up to Town by an\nearly train this morning. And he has ordered a large and very\nexpensive motor-car.\"\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE WILD WOOD\n\n\nThe Mole had long wanted to make the acquaintance of the Badger. He\nseemed, by all accounts, to be such an important personage and, though\nrarely visible, to make his unseen influence felt by everybody about\nthe place. But whenever the Mole mentioned his wish to the Water Rat,\nhe always found himself put off. \"It's all right,\" the Rat would say.\n\"Badger'll turn up some day or other--he's always turning up--and then\nI'll introduce you. The best of fellows! But you must not only take\nhim _as_ you find him, but _when_ you find him.\"\n\n\"Couldn't you ask him here--dinner or something?\" said the Mole.\n\n\"He wouldn't come,\" replied the Rat simply. \"Badger hates Society, and\ninvitations, and dinner, and all that sort of thing.\"\n\n\"Well, then, supposing we go and call on _him_?\" suggested the Mole.\n\n\"O, I'm sure he wouldn't like that at _all_,\" said the Rat, quite\nalarmed. \"He's so very shy, he'd be sure to be offended. I've never\neven ventured to call on him at his own home myself, though I know him\nso well. Besides, we can't. It's quite out of the question, because he\nlives in the very middle of the Wild Wood.\"\n\n\"Well, supposing he does,\" said the Mole. \"You told me the Wild Wood\nwas all right, you know.\"\n\n\"O, I know, I know, so it is,\" replied the Rat evasively. \"But I think\nwe won't go there just now. Not _just_ yet. It's a long way, and he\nwouldn't be at home at this time of year anyhow, and he'll be coming\nalong some day, if you'll wait quietly.\"\n\nThe Mole had to be content with this. But the Badger never came along,\nand every day brought its amusements, and it was not till summer was\nlong over, and cold and frost and miry ways kept them much indoors,\nand the swollen river raced past outside their windows with a speed\nthat mocked at boating of any sort or kind, that he found his thoughts\ndwelling again with much persistence on the solitary grey Badger, who\nlived his own life by himself, in his hole in the middle of the Wild\nWood.\n\nIn the winter time the Rat slept a great deal, retiring early and\nrising late. During his short day he sometimes scribbled poetry or did\nother small domestic jobs about the house; and, of course, there were\nalways animals dropping in for a chat, and consequently there was a\ngood deal of story-telling and comparing notes on the past summer and\nall its doings.\n\nSuch a rich chapter it had been, when one came to look back on it all!\nWith illustrations so numerous and so very highly-coloured! The pageant\nof the river bank had marched steadily along, unfolding itself in\nscene-pictures that succeeded each other in stately procession. Purple\nloosestrife arrived early, shaking luxuriant tangled locks along the\nedge of the mirror whence its own face laughed back at it. Willow-herb,\ntender and wistful, like a pink sunset cloud, was not slow to follow.\nComfrey, the purple hand-in-hand with the white, crept forth to take its\nplace in the line; and at last one morning the diffident and delaying\ndog-rose stepped delicately on the stage, and one knew, as if\nstring-music had announced it in stately chords that strayed into a\ngavotte, that June at last was here. One member of the company was still\nawaited; the shepherd-boy for the nymphs to woo, the knight for whom the\nladies waited at the window, the prince that was to kiss the sleeping\nsummer back to life and love. But when meadow-sweet, debonair and\nodorous in amber jerkin, moved graciously to his place in the group,\nthen the play was ready to begin.\n\nAnd what a play it had been! Drowsy animals, snug in their holes while\nwind and rain were battering at their doors, recalled still keen\nmornings, an hour before sunrise, when the white mist, as yet\nundispersed, clung closely along the surface of the water; then the\nshock of the early plunge, the scamper along the bank, and the radiant\ntransformation of earth, air, and water, when suddenly the sun was\nwith them again, and grey was gold and colour was born and sprang out\nof the earth once more. They recalled the languorous siesta of hot\nmid-day, deep in green undergrowth, the sun striking through in tiny\ngolden shafts and spots; the boating and bathing of the afternoon, the\nrambles along dusty lanes and through yellow corn-fields; and the\nlong, cool evening at last, when so many threads were gathered up, so\nmany friendships rounded, and so many adventures planned for the\nmorrow. There was plenty to talk about on those short winter days when\nthe animals found themselves round the fire; still, the Mole had a\ngood deal of spare time on his hands, and so one afternoon, when the\nRat in his arm-chair before the blaze was alternately dozing and\ntrying over rhymes that wouldn't fit, he formed the resolution to go\nout by himself and explore the Wild Wood, and perhaps strike up an\nacquaintance with Mr. Badger.\n\nIt was a cold, still afternoon with a hard, steely sky overhead, when\nhe slipped out of the warm parlour into the open air. The country lay\nbare and entirely leafless around him, and he thought that he had\nnever seen so far and so intimately into the insides of things as on\nthat winter day when Nature was deep in her annual slumber and seemed\nto have kicked the clothes off. Copses, dells, quarries, and all\nhidden places, which had been mysterious mines for exploration in\nleafy summer, now exposed themselves and their secrets pathetically,\nand seemed to ask him to overlook their shabby poverty for a while,\ntill they could riot in rich masquerade as before, and trick and\nentice him with the old deceptions. It was pitiful in a way, and yet\ncheering--even exhilarating. He was glad that he liked the country\nundecorated, hard, and stripped of its finery. He had got down to the\nbare bones of it, and they were fine and strong and simple. He did not\nwant the warm clover and the play of seeding grasses; the screens of\nquickset, the billowy drapery of beech and elm seemed best away; and\nwith great cheerfulness of spirit he pushed on towards the Wild Wood,\nwhich lay before him low and threatening, like a black reef in some\nstill southern sea.\n\nThere was nothing to alarm him at first entry. Twigs crackled under\nhis feet, logs tripped him, funguses on stumps resembled caricatures,\nand startled him for the moment by their likeness to something\nfamiliar and far away; but that was all fun, and exciting. It led him\non, and he penetrated to where the light was less, and trees crouched\nnearer and nearer, and holes made ugly mouths at him on either side.\n\nEverything was very still now. The dusk advanced on him steadily,\nrapidly, gathering in behind and before; and the light seemed to be\ndraining away like flood-water.\n\nThen the faces began.\n\nIt was over his shoulder, and indistinctly, that he first thought he\nsaw a face, a little, evil, wedge-shaped face, looking out at him from\na hole. When he turned and confronted it, the thing had vanished.\n\nHe quickened his pace, telling himself cheerfully not to begin\nimagining things or there would be simply no end to it. He passed\nanother hole, and another, and another; and then--yes!--no!--yes!\ncertainly a little, narrow face, with hard eyes, had flashed up for an\ninstant from a hole, and was gone. He hesitated--braced himself up for\nan effort and strode on. Then suddenly, and as if it had been so all\nthe time, every hole, far and near, and there were hundreds of them,\nseemed to possess its face, coming and going rapidly, all fixing on\nhim glances of malice and hatred: all hard-eyed and evil and sharp.\n\nIf he could only get away from the holes in the banks, he thought,\nthere would be no more faces. He swung off the path and plunged into\nthe untrodden places of the wood.\n\nThen the whistling began.\n\nVery faint and shrill it was, and far behind him, when first he heard\nit; but somehow it made him hurry forward. Then, still very faint and\nshrill, it sounded far ahead of him, and made him hesitate and want to\ngo back. As he halted in indecision it broke out on either side, and\nseemed to be caught up and passed on throughout the whole length of\nthe wood to its farthest limit. They were up and alert and ready,\nevidently, whoever they were! And he--he was alone, and unarmed, and\nfar from any help; and the night was closing in.\n\nThen the pattering began.\n\nHe thought it was only falling leaves at first, so slight and delicate\nwas the sound of it. Then as it grew it took a regular rhythm, and he\nknew it for nothing else but the pat-pat-pat of little feet still a\nvery long way off. Was it in front or behind? It seemed to be first\none, and then the other, then both. It grew and it multiplied, till\nfrom every quarter as he listened anxiously, leaning this way and\nthat, it seemed to be closing in on him. As he stood still to hearken,\na rabbit came running hard towards him through the trees. He waited,\nexpecting it to slacken pace or to swerve from him into a different\ncourse. Instead, the animal almost brushed him as it dashed past, his\nface set and hard, his eyes staring. \"Get out of this, you fool, get\nout!\" the Mole heard him mutter as he swung round a stump and\ndisappeared down a friendly burrow.\n\nThe pattering increased till it sounded like sudden hail on the dry\nleaf-carpet spread around him. The whole wood seemed running now,\nrunning hard, hunting, chasing, closing in round something or--somebody?\nIn panic, he began to run too, aimlessly, he knew not whither. He ran up\nagainst things, he fell over things and into things, he darted under\nthings and dodged round things. At last he took refuge in the deep, dark\nhollow of an old beech tree, which offered shelter, concealment--perhaps\neven safety, but who could tell? Anyhow, he was too tired to run any\nfurther, and could only snuggle down into the dry leaves which had\ndrifted into the hollow and hope he was safe for a time. And as he lay\nthere panting and trembling, and listened to the whistlings and the\npatterings outside, he knew it at last, in all its fulness, that dread\nthing which other little dwellers in field and hedgerow had encountered\nhere, and known as their darkest moment--that thing which the Rat had\nvainly tried to shield him from--the Terror of the Wild Wood!\n\n[Illustration: _In panic, he began to run_]\n\nMeantime the Rat, warm and comfortable, dozed by his fireside. His\npaper of half-finished verses slipped from his knee, his head fell\nback, his mouth opened, and he wandered by the verdant banks of\ndream-rivers. Then a coal slipped, the fire crackled and sent up a\nspurt of flame, and he woke with a start. Remembering what he had been\nengaged upon, he reached down to the floor for his verses, pored over\nthem for a minute, and then looked round for the Mole to ask him if he\nknew a good rhyme for something or other.\n\nBut the Mole was not there.\n\nHe listened for a time. The house seemed very quiet.\n\nThen he called \"Moly!\" several times, and, receiving no answer, got up\nand went out into the hall.\n\nThe Mole's cap was missing from its accustomed peg. His goloshes,\nwhich always lay by the umbrella-stand, were also gone.\n\nThe Rat left the house, and carefully examined the muddy surface of\nthe ground outside, hoping to find the Mole's tracks. There they were,\nsure enough. The goloshes were new, just bought for the winter, and\nthe pimples on their soles were fresh and sharp. He could see the\nimprints of them in the mud, running along straight and purposeful,\nleading direct to the Wild Wood.\n\nThe Rat looked very grave, and stood in deep thought for a minute or\ntwo. Then he re-entered the house, strapped a belt round his waist,\nshoved a brace of pistols into it, took up a stout cudgel that stood\nin a corner of the hall, and set off for the Wild Wood at a smart\npace.\n\nIt was already getting towards dusk when he reached the first fringe\nof trees and plunged without hesitation into the wood, looking\nanxiously on either side for any sign of his friend. Here and there\nwicked little faces popped out of holes, but vanished immediately at\nsight of the valorous animal, his pistols, and the great ugly cudgel\nin his grasp; and the whistling and pattering, which he had heard\nquite plainly on his first entry, died away and ceased, and all was\nvery still. He made his way manfully through the length of the wood,\nto its furthest edge; then, forsaking all paths, he set himself to\ntraverse it, laboriously working over the whole ground, and all the\ntime calling out cheerfully, \"Moly, Moly, Moly! Where are you? It's\nme--it's old Rat!\"\n\nHe had patiently hunted through the wood for an hour or more, when at\nlast to his joy he heard a little answering cry. Guiding himself by\nthe sound, he made his way through the gathering darkness to the foot\nof an old beech tree, with a hole in it, and from out of the hole came\na feeble voice, saying \"Ratty! Is that really you?\"\n\nThe Rat crept into the hollow, and there he found the Mole, exhausted\nand still trembling. \"O Rat!\" he cried, \"I've been so frightened, you\ncan't think!\"\n\n\"O, I quite understand,\" said the Rat soothingly. \"You shouldn't\nreally have gone and done it, Mole. I did my best to keep you from it.\nWe river-bankers, we hardly ever come here by ourselves. If we have to\ncome, we come in couples at least; then we're generally all right.\nBesides, there are a hundred things one has to know, which we\nunderstand all about and you don't, as yet. I mean passwords, and\nsigns, and sayings which have power and effect, and plants you carry\nin your pocket, and verses you repeat, and dodges and tricks you\npractise; all simple enough when you know them, but they've got to be\nknown if you're small, or you'll find yourself in trouble. Of course\nif you were Badger or Otter, it would be quite another matter.\"\n\n\"Surely the brave Mr. Toad wouldn't mind coming here by himself, would\nhe?\" inquired the Mole.\n\n\"Old Toad?\" said the Rat, laughing heartily. \"He wouldn't show his\nface here alone, not for a whole hatful of golden guineas, Toad\nwouldn't.\"\n\nThe Mole was greatly cheered by the sound of the Rat's careless\nlaughter, as well as by the sight of his stick and his gleaming\npistols, and he stopped shivering and began to feel bolder and more\nhimself again.\n\n\"Now then,\" said the Rat presently, \"we really must pull ourselves\ntogether and make a start for home while there's still a little light\nleft. It will never do to spend the night here, you understand. Too\ncold, for one thing.\"\n\n\"Dear Ratty,\" said the poor Mole, \"I'm dreadfully sorry, but I'm\nsimply dead beat and that's a solid fact. You _must_ let me rest here\na while longer, and get my strength back, if I'm to get home at all.\"\n\n\"O, all right,\" said the good-natured Rat, \"rest away. It's pretty\nnearly pitch dark now, anyhow; and there ought to be a bit of a moon\nlater.\"\n\nSo the Mole got well into the dry leaves and stretched himself out,\nand presently dropped off into sleep, though of a broken and troubled\nsort; while the Rat covered himself up, too, as best he might, for\nwarmth, and lay patiently waiting, with a pistol in his paw.\n\nWhen at last the Mole woke up, much refreshed and in his usual\nspirits, the Rat said, \"Now then! I'll just take a look outside and\nsee if everything's quiet, and then we really must be off.\"\n\nHe went to the entrance of their retreat and put his head out. Then\nthe Mole heard him saying quietly to himself, \"Hullo! hullo!\nhere--_is_--a--go!\"\n\n\"What's up, Ratty?\" asked the Mole.\n\n\"_Snow_ is up,\" replied the Rat briefly; \"or rather, _down_. It's\nsnowing hard.\"\n\nThe Mole came and crouched beside him, and, looking out, saw the wood\nthat had been so dreadful to him in quite a changed aspect. Holes,\nhollows, pools, pitfalls, and other black menaces to the wayfarer were\nvanishing fast, and a gleaming carpet of faery was springing up\neverywhere, that looked too delicate to be trodden upon by rough feet.\nA fine powder filled the air and caressed the cheek with a tingle in\nits touch, and the black boles of the trees showed up in a light that\nseemed to come from below.\n\n\"Well, well, it can't be helped,\" said the Rat, after pondering. \"We\nmust make a start, and take our chance, I suppose. The worst of it is,\nI don't exactly know where we are. And now this snow makes everything\nlook so very different.\"\n\nIt did indeed. The Mole would not have known that it was the same\nwood. However, they set out bravely, and took the line that seemed\nmost promising, holding on to each other and pretending with\ninvincible cheerfulness that they recognised an old friend in every\nfresh tree that grimly and silently greeted them, or saw openings,\ngaps, or paths with a familiar turn in them, in the monotony of white\nspace and black tree-trunks that refused to vary.\n\nAn hour or two later--they had lost all count of time--they pulled up,\ndispirited, weary, and hopelessly at sea, and sat down on a fallen\ntree-trunk to recover their breath and consider what was to be done.\nThey were aching with fatigue and bruised with tumbles; they had\nfallen into several holes and got wet through; the snow was getting so\ndeep that they could hardly drag their little legs through it, and the\ntrees were thicker and more like each other than ever. There seemed to\nbe no end to this wood, and no beginning, and no difference in it,\nand, worst of all, no way out.\n\n\"We can't sit here very long,\" said the Rat. \"We shall have to make\nanother push for it, and do something or other. The cold is too awful\nfor anything, and the snow will soon be too deep for us to wade\nthrough.\" He peered about him and considered. \"Look here,\" he went on,\n\"this is what occurs to me. There's a sort of dell down here in front\nof us, where the ground seems all hilly and humpy and hummocky. We'll\nmake our way down into that, and try and find some sort of shelter, a\ncave or hole with a dry floor to it, out of the snow and the wind, and\nthere we'll have a good rest before we try again, for we're both of us\npretty dead beat. Besides, the snow may leave off, or something may\nturn up.\"\n\nSo once more they got on their feet, and struggled down into the dell,\nwhere they hunted about for a cave or some corner that was dry and a\nprotection from the keen wind and the whirling snow. They were\ninvestigating one of the hummocky bits the Rat had spoken of, when\nsuddenly the Mole tripped up and fell forward on his face with a\nsqueal.\n\n\"O my leg!\" he cried. \"O my poor shin!\" and he sat up on the snow and\nnursed his leg in both his front paws.\n\n\"Poor old Mole!\" said the Rat kindly. \"You don't seem to be having\nmuch luck to-day, do you? Let's have a look at the leg. Yes,\" he went\non, going down on his knees to look, \"you've cut your shin, sure\nenough. Wait till I get at my handkerchief, and I'll tie it up for\nyou.\"\n\n\"I must have tripped over a hidden branch or a stump,\" said the Mole\nmiserably. \"O, my! O, my!\"\n\n\"It's a very clean cut,\" said the Rat, examining it again attentively.\n\"That was never done by a branch or a stump. Looks as if it was made\nby a sharp edge of something in metal. Funny!\" He pondered awhile, and\nexamined the humps and slopes that surrounded them.\n\n\"Well, never mind what done it,\" said the Mole, forgetting his grammar\nin his pain. \"It hurts just the same, whatever done it.\"\n\nBut the Rat, after carefully tying up the leg with his handkerchief,\nhad left him and was busy scraping in the snow. He scratched and\nshovelled and explored, all four legs working busily, while the Mole\nwaited impatiently, remarking at intervals, \"O, _come_ on, Rat!\"\n\nSuddenly the Rat cried \"Hooray!\" and then\n\"Hooray-oo-ray-oo-ray-oo-ray!\" and fell to executing a feeble jig in\nthe snow.\n\n\"What _have_ you found, Ratty?\" asked the Mole, still nursing his leg.\n\n\"Come and see!\" said the delighted Rat, as he jigged on.\n\nThe Mole hobbled up to the spot and had a good look.\n\n\"Well,\" he said at last, slowly, \"I _see_ it right enough. Seen the same\nsort of thing before, lots of times. Familiar object, I call it. A\ndoor-scraper! Well, what of it? Why dance jigs around a door-scraper?\"\n\n\"But don't you see what it _means_, you--you dull-witted animal?\"\ncried the Rat impatiently.\n\n\"Of course I see what it means,\" replied the Mole. \"It simply means\nthat some _very_ careless and forgetful person has left his\ndoor-scraper lying about in the middle of the Wild Wood, _just_ where\nit's _sure_ to trip _everybody_ up. Very thoughtless of him, I call\nit. When I get home I shall go and complain about it to--to somebody\nor other, see if I don't!\"\n\n\"O, dear! O, dear!\" cried the Rat, in despair at his obtuseness.\n\"Here, stop arguing and come and scrape!\" And he set to work again and\nmade the snow fly in all directions around him.\n\nAfter some further toil his efforts were rewarded, and a very shabby\ndoor-mat lay exposed to view.\n\n\"There, what did I tell you?\" exclaimed the Rat in great triumph.\n\n\"Absolutely nothing whatever,\" replied the Mole, with perfect truthfulness.\n\"Well, now,\" he went on, \"you seem to have found another piece of\ndomestic litter, done for and thrown away, and I suppose you're\nperfectly happy. Better go ahead and dance your jig round that if you've\ngot to, and get it over, and then perhaps we can go on and not waste any\nmore time over rubbish-heaps. Can we _eat_ a door-mat? Or sleep under a\ndoor-mat? Or sit on a door-mat and sledge home over the snow on it, you\nexasperating rodent?\"\n\n\"Do--you--mean--to--say,\" cried the excited Rat, \"that this door-mat\ndoesn't _tell_ you anything?\"\n\n\"Really, Rat,\" said the Mole, quite pettishly, \"I think we've had\nenough of this folly. Who ever heard of a door-mat _telling_ any one\nanything? They simply don't do it. They are not that sort at all.\nDoor-mats know their place.\"\n\n\"Now look here, you--you thick-headed beast,\" replied the Rat, really\nangry, \"this must stop. Not another word, but scrape--scrape and\nscratch and dig and hunt round, especially on the sides of the\nhummocks, if you want to sleep dry and warm to-night, for it's our\nlast chance!\"\n\nThe Rat attacked a snow-bank beside them with ardour, probing with his\ncudgel everywhere and then digging with fury; and the Mole scraped\nbusily too, more to oblige the Rat than for any other reason, for his\nopinion was that his friend was getting light-headed.\n\nSome ten minutes' hard work, and the point of the Rat's cudgel struck\nsomething that sounded hollow. He worked till he could get a paw\nthrough and feel; then called the Mole to come and help him. Hard at\nit went the two animals, till at last the result of their labours\nstood full in view of the astonished and hitherto incredulous Mole.\n\nIn the side of what had seemed to be a snow-bank stood a solid-looking\nlittle door, painted a dark green. An iron bell-pull hung by the side,\nand below it, on a small brass plate, neatly engraved in square capital\nletters, they could read by the aid of moonlight\n\n        MR. BADGER.\n\nThe Mole fell backwards on the snow from sheer surprise and delight.\n\"Rat!\" he cried in penitence, \"you're a wonder! A real wonder, that's\nwhat you are. I see it all now! You argued it out, step by step, in\nthat wise head of yours, from the very moment that I fell and cut my\nshin, and you looked at the cut, and at once your majestic mind said\nto itself, 'Door-scraper!' And then you turned to and found the very\ndoor-scraper that done it! Did you stop there? No. Some people would\nhave been quite satisfied; but not you. Your intellect went on\nworking. 'Let me only just find a door-mat,' says you to yourself,\n'and my theory is proved!' And of course you found your door-mat.\nYou're so clever, I believe you could find anything you liked. 'Now,'\nsays you, 'that door exists, as plain as if I saw it. There's nothing\nelse remains to be done but to find it!' Well, I've read about that\nsort of thing in books, but I've never come across it before in real\nlife. You ought to go where you'll be properly appreciated. You're\nsimply wasted here, among us fellows. If I only had your head,\nRatty--\"\n\n\"But as you haven't,\" interrupted the Rat, rather unkindly, \"I suppose\nyou're going to sit on the snow all night and _talk_? Get up at once\nand hang on to that bell-pull you see there, and ring hard, as hard as\nyou can, while I hammer!\"\n\nWhile the Rat attacked the door with his stick, the Mole sprang up at\nthe bell-pull, clutched it and swung there, both feet well off the\nground, and from quite a long way off they could faintly hear a\ndeep-toned bell respond.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nMR. BADGER\n\n\nThey waited patiently for what seemed a very long time, stamping in\nthe snow to keep their feet warm. At last they heard the sound of slow\nshuffling footsteps approaching the door from the inside. It seemed,\nas the Mole remarked to the Rat, like some one walking in carpet\nslippers that were too large for him and down at heel; which was\nintelligent of Mole, because that was exactly what it was.\n\nThere was the noise of a bolt shot back, and the door opened a few\ninches, enough to show a long snout and a pair of sleepy blinking\neyes.\n\n\"Now, the _very_ next time this happens,\" said a gruff and suspicious\nvoice, \"I shall be exceedingly angry. Who is it _this_ time,\ndisturbing people on such a night? Speak up!\"\n\n\"Oh, Badger,\" cried the Rat, \"let us in, please. It's me, Rat, and my\nfriend Mole, and we've lost our way in the snow.\"\n\n\"What, Ratty, my dear little man!\" exclaimed the Badger, in quite a\ndifferent voice. \"Come along in, both of you, at once. Why, you must\nbe perished. Well, I never! Lost in the snow! And in the Wild Wood,\ntoo, and at this time of night! But come in with you.\"\n\nThe two animals tumbled over each other in their eagerness to get\ninside, and heard the door shut behind them with great joy and relief.\n\nThe Badger, who wore a long dressing-gown, and whose slippers were\nindeed very down at heel, carried a flat candlestick in his paw and\nhad probably been on his way to bed when their summons sounded. He\nlooked kindly down on them and patted both their heads. \"This is not\nthe sort of night for small animals to be out,\" he said paternally.\n\"I'm afraid you've been up to some of your pranks again, Ratty. But\ncome along; come into the kitchen. There's a first-rate fire there,\nand supper and everything.\"\n\nHe shuffled on in front of them, carrying the light, and they\nfollowed him, nudging each other in an anticipating sort of way, down\na long, gloomy, and, to tell the truth, decidedly shabby passage, into\na sort of a central hall, out of which they could dimly see other long\ntunnel-like passages branching, passages mysterious and without\napparent end. But there were doors in the hall as well--stout oaken,\ncomfortable-looking doors. One of these the Badger flung open, and at\nonce they found themselves in all the glow and warmth of a large\nfire-lit kitchen.\n\nThe floor was well-worn red brick, and on the wide hearth burnt a fire\nof logs, between two attractive chimney-corners tucked away in the\nwall, well out of any suspicion of draught. A couple of high-backed\nsettles, facing each other on either side of the fire, gave further\nsitting accommodations for the sociably disposed. In the middle of the\nroom stood a long table of plain boards placed on trestles, with\nbenches down each side. At one end of it, where an arm-chair stood\npushed back, were spread the remains of the Badger's plain but ample\nsupper. Rows of spotless plates winked from the shelves of the dresser\nat the far end of the room, and from the rafters overhead hung hams,\nbundles of dried herbs, nets of onions, and baskets of eggs. It seemed\na place where heroes could fitly feast after victory, where weary\nharvesters could line up in scores along the table and keep their\nHarvest Home with mirth and song, or where two or three friends of\nsimple tastes could sit about as they pleased and eat and smoke and\ntalk in comfort and contentment. The ruddy brick floor smiled up at\nthe smoky ceiling; the oaken settles, shiny with long wear, exchanged\ncheerful glances with each other; plates on the dresser grinned at\npots on the shelf, and the merry firelight flickered and played over\neverything without distinction.\n\nThe kindly Badger thrust them down on a settle to toast themselves at\nthe fire, and bade them remove their wet coats and boots. Then he\nfetched them dressing-gowns and slippers, and himself bathed the\nMole's shin with warm water and mended the cut with sticking-plaster,\ntill the whole thing was just as good as new, if not better. In the\nembracing light and warmth, warm and dry at last, with weary legs\npropped up in front of them, and a suggestive clink of plates being\narranged on the table behind, it seemed to the storm-driven animals,\nnow in safe anchorage, that the cold and trackless Wild Wood just left\noutside was miles and miles away, and all that they had suffered in it\na half-forgotten dream.\n\nWhen at last they were thoroughly toasted, the Badger summoned them to\nthe table, where he had been busy laying a repast. They had felt\npretty hungry before, but when they actually saw at last the supper\nthat was spread for them, really it seemed only a question of what\nthey should attack first where all was so attractive, and whether the\nother things would obligingly wait for them till they had time to give\nthem attention. Conversation was impossible for a long time; and when\nit was slowly resumed, it was that regrettable sort of conversation\nthat results from talking with your mouth full. The Badger did not\nmind that sort of thing at all, nor did he take any notice of elbows\non the table, or everybody speaking at once. As he did not go into\nSociety himself, he had got an idea that these things belonged to the\nthings that didn't really matter. (We know of course that he was\nwrong, and took too narrow a view; because they do matter very much,\nthough it would take too long to explain why.) He sat in his arm-chair\nat the head of the table, and nodded gravely at intervals as the\nanimals told their story; and he did not seem surprised or shocked at\nanything, and he never said, \"I told you so,\" or, \"Just what I always\nsaid,\" or remarked that they ought to have done so-and-so, or ought\nnot to have done something else. The Mole began to feel very friendly\ntowards him.\n\nWhen supper was really finished at last, and each animal felt that his\nskin was now as tight as was decently safe, and that by this time he\ndidn't care a hang for anybody or anything, they gathered round the\nglowing embers of the great wood fire, and thought how jolly it was to\nbe sitting up _so_ late, and _so_ independent, and _so_ full; and\nafter they had chatted for a time about things in general, the Badger\nsaid heartily, \"Now then! tell us the news from your part of the\nworld. How's old Toad going on?\"\n\n\"Oh, from bad to worse,\" said the Rat gravely, while the Mole, cocked\nup on a settle and basking in the firelight, his heels higher than his\nhead, tried to look properly mournful. \"Another smash-up only last\nweek, and a bad one. You see, he will insist on driving himself, and\nhe's hopelessly incapable. If he'd only employ a decent, steady,\nwell-trained animal, pay him good wages, and leave everything to him,\nhe'd get on all right. But no; he's convinced he's a heaven-born\ndriver, and nobody can teach him anything; and all the rest follows.\"\n\n\"How many has he had?\" inquired the Badger gloomily.\n\n\"Smashes, or machines?\" asked the Rat. \"Oh, well, after all, it's the\nsame thing--with Toad. This is the seventh. As for the others--you\nknow that coach-house of his? Well, it's piled up--literally piled up\nto the roof--with fragments of motor-cars, none of them bigger than\nyour hat! That accounts for the other six--so far as they can be\naccounted for.\"\n\n\"He's been in hospital three times,\" put in the Mole; \"and as for the\nfines he's had to pay, it's simply awful to think of.\"\n\n\"Yes, and that's part of the trouble,\" continued the Rat. \"Toad's\nrich, we all know; but he's not a millionaire. And he's a hopelessly\nbad driver, and quite regardless of law and order. Killed or\nruined--it's got to be one of the two things, sooner or later. Badger!\nwe're his friends--oughtn't we to do something?\"\n\nThe Badger went through a bit of hard thinking. \"Now look here!\" he\nsaid at last, rather severely; \"of course you know I can't do anything\n_now_?\"\n\nHis two friends assented, quite understanding his point. No animal,\naccording to the rules of animal etiquette, is ever expected to do\nanything strenuous, or heroic, or even moderately active during the\noff-season of winter. All are sleepy--some actually asleep. All are\nweather-bound, more or less; and all are resting from arduous days and\nnights, during which every muscle in them has been severely tested,\nand every energy kept at full stretch.\n\n\"Very well then!\" continued the Badger. \"_But_, when once the year has\nreally turned, and the nights are shorter, and half-way through them\none rouses and feels fidgety and wanting to be up and doing by\nsunrise, if not before--_you_ know!--\"\n\nBoth animals nodded gravely. _They_ knew!\n\n\"Well, _then_,\" went on the Badger, \"we--that is, you and me and our\nfriend the Mole here--we'll take Toad seriously in hand. We'll stand\nno nonsense whatever. We'll bring him back to reason, by force if need\nbe. We'll _make_ him be a sensible Toad. We'll--you're asleep, Rat!\"\n\n\"Not me!\" said the Rat, waking up with a jerk.\n\n\"He's been asleep two or three times since supper,\" said the Mole,\nlaughing. He himself was feeling quite wakeful and even lively, though\nhe didn't know why. The reason was, of course, that he being naturally\nan underground animal by birth and breeding, the situation of\nBadger's house exactly suited him and made him feel at home; while the\nRat, who slept every night in a bedroom the windows of which opened on\na breezy river, naturally felt the atmosphere still and oppressive.\n\n\"Well, it's time we were all in bed,\" said the Badger, getting up and\nfetching flat candlesticks. \"Come along, you two, and I'll show you\nyour quarters. And take your time to-morrow morning--breakfast at any\nhour you please!\"\n\nHe conducted the two animals to a long room that seemed half\nbedchamber and half loft. The Badger's winter stores, which indeed\nwere visible everywhere, took up half the room--piles of apples,\nturnips, and potatoes, baskets full of nuts, and jars of honey; but\nthe two little white beds on the remainder of the floor looked soft\nand inviting, and the linen on them, though coarse, was clean and\nsmelt beautifully of lavender; and the Mole and the Water Rat, shaking\noff their garments in some thirty seconds, tumbled in between the\nsheets in great joy and contentment.\n\nIn accordance with the kindly Badger's injunctions, the two tired\nanimals came down to breakfast very late next morning, and found a\nbright fire burning in the kitchen, and two young hedgehogs sitting on\na bench at the table, eating oatmeal porridge out of wooden bowls. The\nhedgehogs dropped their spoons, rose to their feet, and ducked their\nheads respectfully as the two entered.\n\n\"There, sit down, sit down,\" said the Rat pleasantly, \"and go on with\nyour porridge. Where have you youngsters come from? Lost your way in\nthe snow, I suppose?\"\n\n\"Yes, please, sir,\" said the elder of the two hedgehogs respectfully.\n\"Me and little Billy here, we was trying to find our way to\nschool--mother _would_ have us go, was the weather ever so--and of\ncourse we lost ourselves, sir, and Billy he got frightened and took\nand cried, being young and faint-hearted. And at last we happened up\nagainst Mr. Badger's back door, and made so bold as to knock, sir, for\nMr. Badger he's a kind-hearted gentleman, as every one knows--\"\n\n\"I understand,\" said the Rat, cutting himself some rashers from a side\nof bacon, while the Mole dropped some eggs into a saucepan. \"And\nwhat's the weather like outside? You needn't 'sir' me quite so much,\"\nhe added.\n\n\"O, terrible bad, sir, terrible deep the snow is,\" said the hedgehog.\n\"No getting out for the likes of you gentlemen to-day.\"\n\n\"Where's Mr. Badger?\" inquired the Mole as he warmed the coffee-pot\nbefore the fire.\n\n\"The master's gone into his study, sir,\" replied the hedgehog, \"and he\nsaid as how he was going to be particular busy this morning, and on no\naccount was he to be disturbed.\"\n\nThis explanation, of course, was thoroughly understood by every one\npresent. The fact is, as already set forth, when you live a life of\nintense activity for six months in the year, and of comparative or\nactual somnolence for the other six, during the latter period you\ncannot be continually pleading sleepiness when there are people about\nor things to be done. The excuse gets monotonous. The animals well\nknew that Badger, having eaten a hearty breakfast, had retired to his\nstudy and settled himself in an arm-chair with his legs up on another\nand a red cotton handkerchief over his face, and was being \"busy\" in\nthe usual way at this time of the year.\n\nThe front-door bell clanged loudly, and the Rat, who was very greasy\nwith buttered toast, sent Billy, the smaller hedgehog, to see who it\nmight be. There was a sound of much stamping in the hall, and\npresently Billy returned in front of the Otter, who threw himself on\nthe Rat with an embrace and a shout of affectionate greeting.\n\n\"Get off!\" spluttered the Rat, with his mouth full.\n\n\"Thought I should find you here all right,\" said the Otter cheerfully.\n\"They were all in a great state of alarm along River Bank when I\narrived this morning. Rat never been home all night--nor Mole\neither--something dreadful must have happened, they said; and the snow\nhad covered up all your tracks, of course. But I knew that when people\nwere in any fix they mostly went to Badger, or else Badger got to\nknow of it somehow, so I came straight off here, through the Wild Wood\nand the snow! My! it was fine, coming through the snow as the red sun\nwas rising and showing against the black tree-trunks! As you went\nalong in the stillness, every now and then masses of snow slid off the\nbranches suddenly with a flop! making you jump and run for cover.\nSnow-castles and snow-caverns had sprung up out of nowhere in the\nnight--and snow bridges, terraces, ramparts--I could have stayed and\nplayed with them for hours. Here and there great branches had been\ntorn away by the sheer weight of the snow, and robins perched and\nhopped on them in their perky conceited way, just as if they had done\nit themselves. A ragged string of wild geese passed overhead, high on\nthe grey sky, and a few rooks whirled over the trees, inspected, and\nflapped off homewards with a disgusted expression; but I met no\nsensible being to ask the news of. About half-way across I came on a\nrabbit sitting on a stump, cleaning his silly face with his paws. He\nwas a pretty scared animal when I crept up behind him and placed a\nheavy fore-paw on his shoulder. I had to cuff his head once or\ntwice to get any sense out of it at all. At last I managed to extract\nfrom him that Mole had been seen in the Wild Wood last night by one of\nthem. It was the talk of the burrows, he said, how Mole, Mr. Rat's\nparticular friend, was in a bad fix; how he had lost his way, and\n'They' were up and out hunting, and were chivvying him round and\nround. 'Then why didn't any of you _do_ something?' I asked. 'You\nmayn't be blessed with brains, but there are hundreds and hundreds of\nyou, big, stout fellows, as fat as butter, and your burrows running in\nall directions, and you could have taken him in and made him safe and\ncomfortable, or tried to, at all events.' 'What, _us_?' he merely\nsaid: '_do_ something? us rabbits?' So I cuffed him again and left\nhim. There was nothing else to be done. At any rate, I had learnt\nsomething; and if I had had the luck to meet any of 'Them' I'd have\nlearnt something more--or _they_ would.\"\n\n[Illustration: _Through the Wild Wood and the snow_]\n\n\"Weren't you at all--er--nervous?\" asked the Mole, some of yesterday's\nterror coming back to him at the mention of the Wild Wood.\n\n\"Nervous?\" The Otter showed a gleaming set of strong white teeth as he\nlaughed. \"I'd give 'em nerves if any of them tried anything on with\nme. Here, Mole, fry me some slices of ham, like the good little chap\nyou are. I'm frightfully hungry, and I've got any amount to say to\nRatty here. Haven't seen him for an age.\"\n\nSo the good-natured Mole, having cut some slices of ham, set the\nhedgehogs to fry it, and returned to his own breakfast, while the\nOtter and the Rat, their heads together, eagerly talked river-shop,\nwhich is long shop and talk that is endless, running on like the\nbabbling river itself.\n\nA plate of fried ham had just been cleared and sent back for more,\nwhen the Badger entered, yawning and rubbing his eyes, and greeted\nthem all in his quiet, simple way, with kind inquiries for every one.\n\"It must be getting on for luncheon time,\" he remarked to the Otter.\n\"Better stop and have it with us. You must be hungry, this cold\nmorning.\"\n\n\"Rather!\" replied the Otter, winking at the Mole. \"The sight of these\ngreedy young hedgehogs stuffing themselves with fried ham makes me\nfeel positively famished.\"\n\nThe hedgehogs, who were just beginning to feel hungry again after\ntheir porridge, and after working so hard at their frying, looked\ntimidly up at Mr. Badger, but were too shy to say anything.\n\n\"Here, you two youngsters, be off home to your mother,\" said the\nBadger kindly. \"I'll send some one with you to show you the way. You\nwon't want any dinner to-day, I'll be bound.\"\n\nHe gave them sixpence a-piece and a pat on the head, and they went off\nwith much respectful swinging of caps and touching of forelocks.\n\nPresently they all sat down to luncheon together. The Mole found\nhimself placed next to Mr. Badger, and, as the other two were still\ndeep in river-gossip from which nothing could divert them, he took the\nopportunity to tell Badger how comfortable and home-like it all felt\nto him. \"Once well underground,\" he said, \"you know exactly where you\nare. Nothing can happen to you, and nothing can get at you. You're\nentirely your own master, and you don't have to consult anybody or\nmind what they say. Things go on all the same overhead, and you let\n'em, and don't bother about 'em. When you want to, up you go, and\nthere the things are, waiting for you.\"\n\nThe Badger simply beamed on him. \"That's exactly what I say,\" he\nreplied. \"There's no security, or peace and tranquillity, except\nunderground. And then, if your ideas get larger and you want to\nexpand--why, a dig and a scrape, and there you are! If you feel your\nhouse is a bit too big, you stop up a hole or two, and there you are\nagain! No builders, no tradesmen, no remarks passed on you by fellows\nlooking over your wall, and, above all, no _weather_. Look at Rat,\nnow. A couple of feet of flood water, and he's got to move into hired\nlodgings; uncomfortable, inconveniently situated, and horribly\nexpensive. Take Toad. I say nothing against Toad Hall; quite the best\nhouse in these parts, _as_ a house. But supposing a fire breaks\nout--where's Toad? Supposing tiles are blown off, or walls sink or\ncrack, or windows get broken--where's Toad? Supposing the rooms are\ndraughty--I _hate_ a draught myself--where's Toad? No, up and out of\ndoors is good enough to roam about and get one's living in; but\nunderground to come back to at last--that's my idea of _home_!\"\n\nThe Mole assented heartily; and the Badger in consequence got very\nfriendly with him. \"When lunch is over,\" he said, \"I'll take you all\nround this little place of mine. I can see you'll appreciate it. You\nunderstand what domestic architecture ought to be, you do.\"\n\nAfter luncheon, accordingly, when the other two had settled themselves\ninto the chimney-corner and had started a heated argument on the\nsubject of _eels_, the Badger lighted a lantern and bade the Mole\nfollow him. Crossing the hall, they passed down one of the principal\ntunnels, and the wavering light of the lantern gave glimpses on either\nside of rooms both large and small, some mere cupboards, others\nnearly as broad and imposing as Toad's dining-hall. A narrow passage\nat right angles led them into another corridor, and here the same\nthing was repeated. The Mole was staggered at the size, the extent,\nthe ramifications of it all; at the length of the dim passages, the\nsolid vaultings of the crammed store-chambers, the masonry everywhere,\nthe pillars, the arches, the pavements. \"How on earth, Badger,\" he\nsaid at last, \"did you ever find time and strength to do all this?\nIt's astonishing!\"\n\n\"It _would_ be astonishing indeed,\" said the Badger simply, \"if I\n_had_ done it. But as a matter of fact I did none of it--only cleaned\nout the passages and chambers, as far as I had need of them. There's\nlots more of it, all round about. I see you don't understand, and I\nmust explain it to you. Well, very long ago, on the spot where the\nWild Wood waves now, before ever it had planted itself and grown up to\nwhat it now is, there was a city--a city of people, you know. Here,\nwhere we are standing, they lived, and walked, and talked, and slept,\nand carried on their business. Here they stabled their horses and\nfeasted, from here they rode out to fight or drove out to trade. They\nwere a powerful people, and rich, and great builders. They built to\nlast, for they thought their city would last for ever.\"\n\n\"But what has become of them all?\" asked the Mole.\n\n\"Who can tell?\" said the Badger. \"People come--they stay for a while,\nthey flourish, they build--and they go. It is their way. But we\nremain. There were badgers here, I've been told, long before that same\ncity ever came to be. And now there are badgers here again. We are an\nenduring lot, and we may move out for a time, but we wait, and are\npatient, and back we come. And so it will ever be.\"\n\n\"Well, and when they went at last, those people?\" said the Mole.\n\n\"When they went,\" continued the Badger, \"the strong winds and\npersistent rains took the matter in hand, patiently, ceaselessly, year\nafter year. Perhaps we badgers too, in our small way, helped a\nlittle--who knows? It was all down, down, down, gradually--ruin and\nlevelling and disappearance. Then it was all up, up, up, gradually, as\nseeds grew to saplings, and saplings to forest trees, and bramble and\nfern came creeping in to help. Leaf-mould rose and obliterated,\nstreams in their winter freshets brought sand and soil to clog and to\ncover, and in course of time our home was ready for us again, and we\nmoved in. Up above us, on the surface, the same thing happened.\nAnimals arrived, liked the look of the place, took up their quarters,\nsettled down, spread, and flourished. They didn't bother themselves\nabout the past--they never do; they're too busy. The place was a bit\nhumpy and hillocky, naturally, and full of holes; but that was rather\nan advantage. And they don't bother about the future, either--the\nfuture when perhaps the people will move in again--for a time--as may\nvery well be. The Wild Wood is pretty well populated by now; with all\nthe usual lot, good, bad, and indifferent--I name no names. It takes\nall sorts to make a world. But I fancy you know something about them\nyourself by this time.\"\n\n\"I do indeed,\" said the Mole, with a slight shiver.\n\n\"Well, well,\" said the Badger, patting him on the shoulder, \"it was\nyour first experience of them, you see. They're not so bad really; and\nwe must all live and let live. But I'll pass the word around\nto-morrow, and I think you'll have no further trouble. Any friend of\n_mine_ walks where he likes in this country, or I'll know the reason\nwhy!\"\n\nWhen they got back to the kitchen again, they found the Rat walking up\nand down, very restless. The underground atmosphere was oppressing him\nand getting on his nerves, and he seemed really to be afraid that the\nriver would run away if he wasn't there to look after it. So he had\nhis overcoat on, and his pistols thrust into his belt again. \"Come\nalong, Mole,\" he said anxiously, as soon as he caught sight of them.\n\"We must get off while it's daylight. Don't want to spend another\nnight in the Wild Wood again.\"\n\n\"It'll be all right, my fine fellow,\" said the Otter. \"I'm coming\nalong with you, and I know every path blindfold; and if there's a\nhead that needs to be punched, you can confidently rely upon me to\npunch it.\"\n\n\"You really needn't fret, Ratty,\" added the Badger placidly. \"My\npassages run further than you think, and I've bolt-holes to the edge\nof the wood in several directions, though I don't care for everybody\nto know about them. When you really have to go, you shall leave by one\nof my short cuts. Meantime, make yourself easy, and sit down again.\"\n\nThe Rat was nevertheless still anxious to be off and attend to his\nriver, so the Badger, taking up his lantern again, led the way along a\ndamp and airless tunnel that wound and dipped, part vaulted, part hewn\nthrough solid rock, for a weary distance that seemed to be miles. At\nlast daylight began to show itself confusedly through tangled growth\noverhanging the mouth of the passage; and the Badger, bidding them a\nhasty good-bye, pushed them hurriedly through the opening, made\neverything look as natural as possible again, with creepers,\nbrushwood, and dead leaves, and retreated.\n\nThey found themselves standing on the very edge of the Wild Wood. Rocks\nand brambles and tree-roots behind them, confusedly heaped and tangled;\nin front, a great space of quiet fields, hemmed by lines of hedges black\non the snow, and, far ahead, a glint of the familiar old river, while\nthe wintry sun hung red and low on the horizon. The Otter, as knowing\nall the paths, took charge of the party, and they trailed out on a\nbee-line for a distant stile. Pausing there a moment and looking back,\nthey saw the whole mass of the Wild Wood, dense, menacing, compact,\ngrimly set in vast white surroundings; simultaneously they turned and\nmade swiftly for home, for firelight and the familiar things it played\non, for the voice, sounding cheerily outside their window, of the river\nthat they knew and trusted in all its moods, that never made them afraid\nwith any amazement.\n\nAs he hurried along, eagerly anticipating the moment when he would be\nat home again among the things he knew and liked, the Mole saw clearly\nthat he was an animal of tilled field and hedgerow, linked to the\nploughed furrow, the frequented pasture, the lane of evening\nlingerings, the cultivated garden-plot. For others the asperities, the\nstubborn endurance, or the clash of actual conflict, that went with\nNature in the rough; he must be wise, must keep to the pleasant places\nin which his lines were laid and which held adventure enough, in their\nway, to last for a lifetime.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nDULCE DOMUM\n\n\nThe sheep ran huddling together against the hurdles, blowing out thin\nnostrils and stamping with delicate fore-feet, their heads thrown back\nand a light steam rising from the crowded sheep-pen into the frosty\nair, as the two animals hastened by in high spirits, with much chatter\nand laughter. They were returning across country after a long day's\nouting with Otter, hunting and exploring on the wide uplands, where\ncertain streams tributary to their own River had their first small\nbeginnings; and the shades of the short winter day were closing in on\nthem, and they had still some distance to go. Plodding at random\nacross the plough, they had heard the sheep and had made for them; and\nnow, leading from the sheep-pen, they found a beaten track that made\nwalking a lighter business, and responded, moreover, to that small\ninquiring something which all animals carry inside them, saying\nunmistakably, \"Yes, quite right; _this_ leads home!\"\n\n\"It looks as if we were coming to a village,\" said the Mole somewhat\ndubiously, slackening his pace, as the track, that had in time become\na path and then had developed into a lane, now handed them over to the\ncharge of a well-metalled road. The animals did not hold with\nvillages, and their own highways, thickly frequented as they were,\ntook an independent course, regardless of church, post-office, or\npublic-house.\n\n\"Oh, never mind!\" said the Rat. \"At this season of the year they're\nall safe indoors by this time, sitting round the fire; men, women, and\nchildren, dogs and cats and all. We shall slip through all right,\nwithout any bother or unpleasantness, and we can have a look at them\nthrough their windows if you like, and see what they're doing.\"\n\nThe rapid nightfall of mid-December had quite beset the little village\nas they approached it on soft feet over a first thin fall of powdery\nsnow. Little was visible but squares of a dusky orange-red on either\nside of the street, where the firelight or lamplight of each cottage\noverflowed through the casements into the dark world without. Most of\nthe low latticed windows were innocent of blinds, and to the\nlookers-in from outside, the inmates, gathered round the tea-table,\nabsorbed in handiwork, or talking with laughter and gesture, had each\nthat happy grace which is the last thing the skilled actor shall\ncapture--the natural grace which goes with perfect unconsciousness of\nobservation. Moving at will from one theatre to another, the two\nspectators, so far from home themselves, had something of wistfulness\nin their eyes as they watched a cat being stroked, a sleepy child\npicked up and huddled off to bed, or a tired man stretch and knock out\nhis pipe on the end of a smouldering log.\n\nBut it was from one little window, with its blind drawn down, a mere\nblank transparency on the night, that the sense of home and the little\ncurtained world within walls--the larger stressful world of outside\nNature shut out and forgotten--most pulsated. Close against the white\nblind hung a bird-cage, clearly silhouetted, every wire, perch, and\nappurtenance distinct and recognisable, even to yesterday's dull-edged\nlump of sugar. On the middle perch the fluffy occupant, head tucked\nwell into feathers, seemed so near to them as to be easily stroked,\nhad they tried; even the delicate tips of his plumped-out plumage\npencilled plainly on the illuminated screen. As they looked, the\nsleepy little fellow stirred uneasily, woke, shook himself, and raised\nhis head. They could see the gape of his tiny beak as he yawned in a\nbored sort of way, looked round, and then settled his head into his\nback again, while the ruffled feathers gradually subsided into perfect\nstillness. Then a gust of bitter wind took them in the back of the\nneck, a small sting of frozen sleet on the skin woke them as from a\ndream, and they knew their toes to be cold and their legs tired, and\ntheir own home distant a weary way.\n\nOnce beyond the village, where the cottages ceased abruptly, on either\nside of the road they could smell through the darkness the friendly\nfields again; and they braced themselves for the last long stretch,\nthe home stretch, the stretch that we know is bound to end, some time,\nin the rattle of the door-latch, the sudden firelight, and the sight\nof familiar things greeting us as long-absent travellers from far\nover-sea. They plodded along steadily and silently, each of them\nthinking his own thoughts. The Mole's ran a good deal on supper, as it\nwas pitch-dark, and it was all a strange country for him as far as he\nknew, and he was following obediently in the wake of the Rat, leaving\nthe guidance entirely to him. As for the Rat, he was walking a little\nway ahead, as his habit was, his shoulders humped, his eyes fixed on\nthe straight grey road in front of him; so he did not notice poor Mole\nwhen suddenly the summons reached him, and took him like an electric\nshock.\n\nWe others, who have long lost the more subtle of the physical senses,\nhave not even proper terms to express an animal's inter-communications\nwith his surroundings, living or otherwise, and have only the word\n\"smell,\" for instance, to include the whole range of delicate thrills\nwhich murmur in the nose of the animal night and day, summoning,\nwarning, inciting, repelling. It was one of these mysterious fairy\ncalls from out the void that suddenly reached Mole in the darkness,\nmaking him tingle through and through with its very familiar appeal,\neven while yet he could not clearly remember what it was. He stopped\ndead in his tracks, his nose searching hither and thither in its\nefforts to recapture the fine filament, the telegraphic current, that\nhad so strongly moved him. A moment, and he had caught it again; and\nwith it this time came recollection in fullest flood.\n\nHome! That was what they meant, those caressing appeals, those soft\ntouches wafted through the air, those invisible little hands pulling\nand tugging, all one way! Why, it must be quite close by him at that\nmoment, his old home that he had hurriedly forsaken and never sought\nagain, that day when he first found the River! And now it was sending\nout its scouts and its messengers to capture him and bring him in.\nSince his escape on that bright morning he had hardly given it a\nthought, so absorbed had he been in his new life, in all its\npleasures, its surprises, its fresh and captivating experiences. Now,\nwith a rush of old memories, how clearly it stood up before him, in\nthe darkness! Shabby indeed, and small and poorly furnished, and yet\nhis, the home he had made for himself, the home he had been so happy\nto get back to after his day's work. And the home had been happy with\nhim, too, evidently, and was missing him, and wanted him back, and was\ntelling him so, through his nose, sorrowfully, reproachfully, but with\nno bitterness or anger; only with plaintive reminder that it was\nthere, and wanted him.\n\nThe call was clear, the summons was plain. He must obey it instantly,\nand go. \"Ratty!\" he called, full of joyful excitement, \"hold on! Come\nback! I want you, quick!\"\n\n\"Oh, _come_ along, Mole, do!\" replied the Rat cheerfully, still\nplodding along.\n\n\"_Please_ stop, Ratty!\" pleaded the poor Mole, in anguish of heart.\n\"You don't understand! It's my home, my old home! I've just come\nacross the smell of it, and it's close by here, really quite close.\nAnd I _must_ go to it, I must, I must! Oh, come back, Ratty! Please,\nplease come back!\"\n\nThe Rat was by this time very far ahead, too far to hear clearly what\nthe Mole was calling, too far to catch the sharp note of painful\nappeal in his voice. And he was much taken up with the weather, for he\ntoo, could smell something--something suspiciously like approaching\nsnow.\n\n\"Mole, we mustn't stop now, really!\" he called back. \"We'll come for\nit to-morrow, whatever it is you've found. But I daren't stop\nnow--it's late, and the snow's coming on again, and I'm not sure of\nthe way! And I want your nose, Mole, so come on quick, there's a good\nfellow!\" And the Rat pressed forward on his way without waiting for an\nanswer.\n\nPoor Mole stood alone in the road, his heart torn asunder, and a big\nsob gathering, gathering, somewhere low down inside him, to leap up to\nthe surface presently, he knew, in passionate escape. But even under\nsuch a test as this his loyalty to his friend stood firm. Never for a\nmoment did he dream of abandoning him. Meanwhile, the wafts from his\nold home pleaded, whispered, conjured, and finally claimed him\nimperiously. He dared not tarry longer within their magic circle. With\na wrench that tore his very heart-strings he set his face down the\nroad and followed submissively in the track of the Rat, while faint,\nthin little smells, still dogging his retreating nose, reproached him\nfor his new friendship and his callous forgetfulness.\n\nWith an effort he caught up to the unsuspecting Rat, who began\nchattering cheerfully about what they would do when they got back, and\nhow jolly a fire of logs in the parlour would be, and what a supper he\nmeant to eat; never noticing his companion's silence and distressful\nstate of mind. At last, however, when they had gone some considerable\nway further, and were passing some tree stumps at the edge of a copse\nthat bordered the road, he stopped and said kindly, \"Look here, Mole,\nold chap, you seem dead tired. No talk left in you, and your feet\ndragging like lead. We'll sit down here for a minute and rest. The\nsnow has held off so far, and the best part of our journey is over.\"\n\nThe Mole subsided forlornly on a tree stump and tried to control\nhimself, for he felt it surely coming. The sob he had fought with so\nlong refused to be beaten. Up and up, it forced its way to the air,\nand then another, and another, and others thick and fast; till poor\nMole at last gave up the struggle, and cried freely and helplessly and\nopenly, now that he knew it was all over and he had lost what he could\nhardly be said to have found.\n\nThe Rat, astonished and dismayed at the violence of Mole's paroxysm of\ngrief, did not dare to speak for a while. At last he said, very\nquietly and sympathetically, \"What is it, old fellow? Whatever can be\nthe matter? Tell us your trouble, and let me see what I can do.\"\n\nPoor Mole found it difficult to get any words out between the\nupheavals of his chest that followed one upon another so quickly and\nheld back speech and choked it as it came. \"I know it's a--shabby,\ndingy little place,\" he sobbed forth at last brokenly: \"not like--your\ncosy quarters--or Toad's beautiful hall--or Badger's great house--but\nit was my own little home--and I was fond of it--and I went away and\nforgot all about it--and then I smelt it suddenly--on the road, when I\ncalled and you wouldn't listen, Rat--and everything came back to me\nwith a rush--and I _wanted_ it!--O dear, O dear!--and when you\n_wouldn't_ turn back, Ratty--and I had to leave it, though I was\nsmelling it all the time--I thought my heart would break.--We might\nhave just gone and had one look at it, Ratty--only one look--it was\nclose by--but you wouldn't turn back, Ratty, you wouldn't turn back! O\ndear, O dear!\"\n\nRecollection brought fresh waves of sorrow, and sobs again took full\ncharge of him, preventing further speech.\n\nThe Rat stared straight in front of him, saying nothing, only patting\nMole gently on the shoulder. After a time he muttered gloomily, \"I see\nit all now! What a _pig_ I have been! A pig--that's me! Just a pig--a\nplain pig!\"\n\nHe waited till Mole's sobs became gradually less stormy and more\nrhythmical; he waited till at last sniffs were frequent and sobs only\nintermittent. Then he rose from his seat, and, remarking carelessly,\n\"Well, now we'd really better be getting on, old chap!\" set off up the\nroad again over the toilsome way they had come.\n\n\"Wherever are you (hic) going to (hic), Ratty?\" cried the tearful\nMole, looking up in alarm.\n\n\"We're going to find that home of yours, old fellow,\" replied the Rat\npleasantly; \"so you had better come along, for it will take some\nfinding, and we shall want your nose.\"\n\n\"Oh, come back, Ratty, do!\" cried the Mole, getting up and hurrying\nafter him. \"It's no good, I tell you! It's too late, and too dark, and\nthe place is too far off, and the snow's coming! And--and I never\nmeant to let you know I was feeling that way about it--it was all an\naccident and a mistake! And think of River Bank, and your supper!\"\n\n\"Hang River Bank, and supper, too!\" said the Rat heartily. \"I tell\nyou, I'm going to find this place now, if I stay out all night. So\ncheer up, old chap, and take my arm, and we'll very soon be back there\nagain.\"\n\nStill snuffling, pleading, and reluctant, Mole suffered himself to be\ndragged back along the road by his imperious companion, who by a flow\nof cheerful talk and anecdote endeavoured to beguile his spirits back\nand make the weary way seem shorter. When at last it seemed to the Rat\nthat they must be nearing that part of the road where the Mole had\nbeen \"held up,\" he said, \"Now, no more talking. Business! Use your\nnose, and give your mind to it.\"\n\nThey moved on in silence for some little way, when suddenly the Rat\nwas conscious, through his arm that was linked in Mole's, of a faint\nsort of electric thrill that was passing down that animal's body.\nInstantly he disengaged himself, fell back a pace, and waited, all\nattention.\n\nThe signals were coming through!\n\nMole stood a moment rigid, while his uplifted nose, quivering\nslightly, felt the air.\n\nThen a short, quick run forward--a fault--a check--a try back; and\nthen a slow, steady, confident advance.\n\nThe Rat, much excited, kept close to his heels as the Mole, with\nsomething of the air of a sleep-walker, crossed a dry ditch, scrambled\nthrough a hedge, and nosed his way over a field open and trackless and\nbare in the faint starlight.\n\nSuddenly, without giving warning, he dived; but the Rat was on the\nalert, and promptly followed him down the tunnel to which his unerring\nnose had faithfully led him.\n\nIt was close and airless, and the earthy smell was strong, and it\nseemed a long time to Rat ere the passage ended and he could stand\nerect and stretch and shake himself. The Mole struck a match, and by\nits light the Rat saw that they were standing in an open space, neatly\nswept and sanded underfoot, and directly facing them was Mole's little\nfront door, with \"Mole End\" painted, in Gothic lettering, over the\nbell-pull at the side.\n\nMole reached down a lantern from a nail on the wall and lit it, and the\nRat, looking round him, saw that they were in a sort of fore-court. A\ngarden-seat stood on one side of the door, and on the other a roller;\nfor the Mole, who was a tidy animal when at home, could not stand having\nhis ground kicked up by other animals into little runs that ended in\nearth-heaps. On the walls hung wire baskets with ferns in them,\nalternating with brackets carrying plaster statuary--Garibaldi, and the\ninfant Samuel, and Queen Victoria, and other heroes of modern Italy.\nDown on one side of the fore-court ran a skittle-alley, with benches\nalong it and little wooden tables marked with rings that hinted at\nbeer-mugs. In the middle was a small round pond containing gold-fish and\nsurrounded by a cockle-shell border. Out of the centre of the pond rose\na fanciful erection clothed in more cockle-shells and topped by a large\nsilvered glass ball that reflected everything all wrong and had a very\npleasing effect.\n\nMole's face beamed at the sight of all these objects so dear to him,\nand he hurried Rat through the door, lit a lamp in the hall, and took\none glance round his old home. He saw the dust lying thick on\neverything, saw the cheerless, deserted look of the long-neglected\nhouse, and its narrow, meagre dimensions, its worn and shabby\ncontents--and collapsed again on a hall-chair, his nose to his paws.\n\"O Ratty!\" he cried dismally, \"why ever did I do it? Why did I bring\nyou to this poor, cold little place, on a night like this, when you\nmight have been at River Bank by this time, toasting your toes before\na blazing fire, with all your own nice things about you!\"\n\nThe Rat paid no heed to his doleful self-reproaches. He was running\nhere and there, opening doors, inspecting rooms and cupboards, and\nlighting lamps and candles and sticking them up everywhere. \"What a\ncapital little house this is!\" he called out cheerily. \"So compact! So\nwell planned! Everything here and everything in its place! We'll make\na jolly night of it. The first thing we want is a good fire; I'll see\nto that--I always know where to find things. So this is the parlour?\nSplendid! Your own idea, those little sleeping-bunks in the wall?\nCapital! Now, I'll fetch the wood and the coals, and you get a duster,\nMole--you'll find one in the drawer of the kitchen table--and try and\nsmarten things up a bit. Bustle about, old chap!\"\n\nEncouraged by his inspiriting companion, the Mole roused himself and\ndusted and polished with energy and heartiness, while the Rat, running\nto and fro with armfuls of fuel, soon had a cheerful blaze roaring up\nthe chimney. He hailed the Mole to come and warm himself; but Mole\npromptly had another fit of the blues, dropping down on a couch in\ndark despair and burying his face in his duster. \"Rat,\" he moaned,\n\"how about your supper, you poor, cold, hungry, weary animal? I've\nnothing to give you--nothing--not a crumb!\"\n\n\"What a fellow you are for giving in!\" said the Rat reproachfully.\n\"Why, only just now I saw a sardine-opener on the kitchen dresser,\nquite distinctly; and everybody knows that means there are sardines\nabout somewhere in the neighbourhood. Rouse yourself! pull yourself\ntogether, and come with me and forage.\"\n\nThey went and foraged accordingly, hunting through every cupboard and\nturning out every drawer. The result was not so very depressing after\nall, though of course it might have been better; a tin of sardines--a\nbox of captain's biscuits, nearly full--and a German sausage encased\nin silver paper.\n\n\"There's a banquet for you!\" observed the Rat, as he arranged the\ntable. \"I know some animals who would give their ears to be sitting\ndown to supper with us to-night!\"\n\n\"No bread!\" groaned the Mole dolorously; \"no butter, no--\"\n\n\"No _pâté de foie gras_, no champagne!\" continued the Rat, grinning.\n\"And that reminds me--what's that little door at the end of the\npassage? Your cellar, of course! Every luxury in this house! Just you\nwait a minute.\"\n\nHe made for the cellar-door, and presently reappeared, somewhat dusty,\nwith a bottle of beer in each paw and another under each arm,\n\"Self-indulgent beggar you seem to be, Mole,\" he observed. \"Deny\nyourself nothing. This is really the jolliest little place I ever was\nin. Now, wherever did you pick up those prints? Make the place look so\nhome-like, they do. No wonder you're so fond of it, Mole. Tell us all\nabout it, and how you came to make it what it is.\"\n\nThen, while the Rat busied himself fetching plates, and knives and\nforks, and mustard which he mixed in an egg-cup, the Mole, his bosom\nstill heaving with the stress of his recent emotion, related--somewhat\nshyly at first, but with more freedom as he warmed to his subject--how\nthis was planned, and how that was thought out, and how this was got\nthrough a windfall from an aunt, and that was a wonderful find and a\nbargain, and this other thing was bought out of laborious savings and\na certain amount of \"going without.\" His spirits finally quite\nrestored, he must needs go and caress his possessions, and take a lamp\nand show off their points to his visitor and expatiate on them, quite\nforgetful of the supper they both so much needed; Rat, who was\ndesperately hungry but strove to conceal it, nodding seriously,\nexamining with a puckered brow, and saying, \"wonderful,\" and \"most\nremarkable,\" at intervals, when the chance for an observation was\ngiven him.\n\nAt last the Rat succeeded in decoying him to the table, and had just\ngot seriously to work with the sardine-opener when sounds were heard\nfrom the fore-court without--sounds like the scuffling of small feet\nin the gravel and a confused murmur of tiny voices, while broken\nsentences reached them--\"Now, all in a line--hold the lantern up a\nbit, Tommy--clear your throats first--no coughing after I say one,\ntwo, three.--Where's young Bill?--Here, come on, do, we're all\na-waiting--\"\n\n\"What's up?\" inquired the Rat, pausing in his labours.\n\n\"I think it must be the field-mice,\" replied the Mole, with a touch of\npride in his manner. \"They go round carol-singing regularly at this\ntime of the year. They're quite an institution in these parts. And\nthey never pass me over--they come to Mole End last of all; and I used\nto give them hot drinks, and supper too sometimes, when I could afford\nit. It will be like old times to hear them again.\"\n\n\"Let's have a look at them!\" cried the Rat, jumping up and running to\nthe door.\n\nIt was a pretty sight, and a seasonable one, that met their eyes when\nthey flung the door open. In the fore-court, lit by the dim rays of a\nhorn lantern, some eight or ten little field-mice stood in a\nsemicircle, red worsted comforters round their throats, their\nfore-paws thrust deep into their pockets, their feet jigging for\nwarmth. With bright beady eyes they glanced shyly at each other,\nsniggering a little, sniffing and applying coat-sleeves a good deal.\nAs the door opened, one of the elder ones that carried the lantern was\njust saying, \"Now then, one, two, three!\" and forthwith their shrill\nlittle voices uprose on the air, singing one of the old-time carols\nthat their forefathers composed in fields that were fallow and held by\nfrost, or when snow-bound in chimney corners, and handed down to be\nsung in the miry street to lamp-lit windows at Yule-time.\n\n                   _CAROL_\n\n        _Villagers all, this frosty tide,\n        Let your doors swing open wide,\n        Though wind may follow, and snow beside,\n         Yet draw us in by your fire to bide;\n            Joy shall be yours in the morning!_\n\n        _Here we stand in the cold and the sleet,\n        Blowing fingers and stamping feet,\n        Come from far away you to greet--\n        You by the fire and we in the street--\n            Bidding you joy in the morning!_\n\n        _For ere one half of the night was gone,\n        Sudden a star has led us on,\n        Raining bliss and benison--\n        Bliss to-morrow and more anon,\n            Joy for every morning!_\n\n        _Goodman Joseph toiled through the snow--\n        Saw the star o'er a stable low;\n        Mary she might not further go--\n        Welcome thatch, and litter below!\n            Joy was hers in the morning!_\n\n        _And then they heard the angels tell\n       \"Who were the first to cry _Nowell_?\n        Animals all, as it befell,\n        In the stable where they did dwell!\n            Joy shall be theirs in the morning!\"_\n\nThe voices ceased, the singers, bashful but smiling, exchanged\nsidelong glances, and silence succeeded--but for a moment only. Then,\nfrom up above and far away, down the tunnel they had so lately\ntravelled was borne to their ears in a faint musical hum the sound of\ndistant bells ringing a joyful and clangorous peal.\n\n\"Very well sung, boys!\" cried the Rat heartily. \"And now come along\nin, all of you, and warm yourselves by the fire, and have something\nhot!\"\n\n\"Yes, come along, field-mice,\" cried the Mole eagerly. \"This is quite\nlike old times! Shut the door after you. Pull up that settle to the\nfire. Now, you just wait a minute, while we--O, Ratty!\" he cried in\ndespair, plumping down on a seat, with tears impending. \"Whatever are\nwe doing? We've nothing to give them!\"\n\n\"You leave all that to me,\" said the masterful Rat. \"Here, you with\nthe lantern! Come over this way. I want to talk to you. Now, tell me,\nare there any shops open at this hour of the night?\"\n\n\"Why, certainly, sir,\" replied the field-mouse respectfully. \"At this\ntime of the year our shops keep open to all sorts of hours.\"\n\n\"Then look here!\" said the Rat. \"You go off at once, you and your\nlantern, and you get me--\"\n\nHere much muttered conversation ensued, and the Mole only heard bits\nof it, such as--\"Fresh, mind!--no, a pound of that will do--see you\nget Buggins's, for I won't have any other--no, only the best--if you\ncan't get it there, try somewhere else--yes, of course, home-made, no\ntinned stuff--well then, do the best you can!\" Finally, there was a\nchink of coin passing from paw to paw, the field-mouse was provided\nwith an ample basket for his purchases, and off he hurried, he and his\nlantern.\n\nThe rest of the field-mice, perched in a row on the settle, their\nsmall legs swinging, gave themselves up to enjoyment of the fire, and\ntoasted their chilblains till they tingled; while the Mole, failing to\ndraw them into easy conversation, plunged into family history and made\neach of them recite the names of his numerous brothers, who were too\nyoung, it appeared, to be allowed to go out a-carolling this year, but\nlooked forward very shortly to winning the parental consent.\n\nThe Rat, meanwhile, was busy examining the label on one of the\nbeer-bottles. \"I perceive this to be Old Burton,\" he remarked\napprovingly. \"_Sensible_ Mole! The very thing! Now we shall be able to\nmull some ale! Get the things ready, Mole, while I draw the corks.\"\n\nIt did not take long to prepare the brew and thrust the tin heater\nwell into the red heart of the fire; and soon every field-mouse was\nsipping and coughing and choking (for a little mulled ale goes a long\nway) and wiping his eyes and laughing and forgetting he had ever been\ncold in all his life.\n\n\"They act plays, too, these fellows,\" the Mole explained to the Rat.\n\"Make them up all by themselves, and act them afterwards. And very\nwell they do it, too! They gave us a capital one last year, about a\nfield-mouse who was captured at sea by a Barbary corsair, and made to\nrow in a galley; and when he escaped and got home again, his lady-love\nhad gone into a convent. Here, _you_! You were in it, I remember. Get\nup and recite a bit.\"\n\nThe field-mouse addressed got up on his legs, giggled shyly, looked\nround the room, and remained absolutely tongue-tied. His comrades\ncheered him on, Mole coaxed and encouraged him, and the Rat went so\nfar as to take him by the shoulders and shake him; but nothing could\novercome his stage-fright. They were all busily engaged on him like\nwatermen applying the Royal Humane Society's regulations to a case of\nlong submersion, when the latch clicked, the door opened, and the\nfield-mouse with the lantern reappeared, staggering under the weight\nof his basket.\n\nThere was no more talk of play-acting once the very real and solid\ncontents of the basket had been tumbled out on the table. Under the\ngeneralship of Rat, everybody was set to do something or to fetch\nsomething. In a very few minutes supper was ready, and Mole, as he\ntook the head of the table in a sort of a dream, saw a lately barren\nboard set thick with savoury comforts; saw his little friends' faces\nbrighten and beam as they fell to without delay; and then let himself\nloose--for he was famished indeed--on the provender so magically\nprovided, thinking what a happy home-coming this had turned out, after\nall. As they ate, they talked of old times, and the field-mice gave\nhim the local gossip up to date, and answered as well as they could\nthe hundred questions he had to ask them. The Rat said little or\nnothing, only taking care that each guest had what he wanted, and\nplenty of it, and that Mole had no trouble or anxiety about anything.\n\nThey clattered off at last, very grateful and showering wishes of the\nseason, with their jacket pockets stuffed with remembrances for the\nsmall brothers and sisters at home. When the door had closed on the\nlast of them and the chink of the lanterns had died away, Mole and Rat\nkicked the fire up, drew their chairs in, brewed themselves a last\nnightcap of mulled ale, and discussed the events of the long day. At\nlast the Rat, with a tremendous yawn, said, \"Mole, old chap, I'm ready\nto drop. Sleepy is simply not the word. That your own bunk over on\nthat side? Very well, then, I'll take this. What a ripping little\nhouse this is! Everything so handy!\"\n\nHe clambered into his bunk and rolled himself well up in the blankets,\nand slumber gathered him forthwith, as a swathe of barley is folded\ninto the arms of the reaping machine.\n\nThe weary Mole also was glad to turn in without delay, and soon had\nhis head on his pillow, in great joy and contentment. But ere he\nclosed his eyes he let them wander round his old room, mellow in the\nglow of the firelight that played or rested on familiar and friendly\nthings which had long been unconsciously a part of him, and now\nsmilingly received him back, without rancour. He was now in just the\nframe of mind that the tactful Rat had quietly worked to bring about\nin him. He saw clearly how plain and simple--how narrow, even--it all\nwas; but clearly, too, how much it all meant to him, and the special\nvalue of some such anchorage in one's existence. He did not at all\nwant to abandon the new life and its splendid spaces, to turn his back\non sun and air and all they offered him and creep home and stay there;\nthe upper world was all too strong, it called to him still, even down\nthere, and he knew he must return to the larger stage. But it was\ngood to think he had this to come back to, this place which was all\nhis own, these things which were so glad to see him again and could\nalways be counted upon for the same simple welcome.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nMR. TOAD\n\n\nIt was a bright morning in the early part of summer; the river had\nresumed its wonted banks and its accustomed pace, and a hot sun seemed\nto be pulling everything green and bushy and spiky up out of the earth\ntowards him, as if by strings. The Mole and the Water Rat had been up\nsince dawn, very busy on matters connected with boats and the opening\nof the boating season; painting and varnishing, mending paddles,\nrepairing cushions, hunting for missing boat-hooks, and so on; and\nwere finishing breakfast in their little parlour and eagerly\ndiscussing their plans for the day, when a heavy knock sounded at the\ndoor.\n\n\"Bother!\" said the Rat, all over egg. \"See who it is, Mole, like a\ngood chap, since you've finished.\"\n\nThe Mole went to attend the summons, and the Rat heard him utter a cry\nof surprise. Then he flung the parlour door open, and announced with\nmuch importance, \"Mr. Badger!\"\n\nThis was a wonderful thing, indeed, that the Badger should pay a\nformal call on them, or indeed on anybody. He generally had to be\ncaught, if you wanted him badly, as he slipped quietly along a\nhedgerow of an early morning or a late evening, or else hunted up in\nhis own house in the middle of the Wood, which was a serious\nundertaking.\n\nThe Badger strode heavily into the room, and stood looking at the two\nanimals with an expression full of seriousness. The Rat let his\negg-spoon fall on the table-cloth, and sat open-mouthed.\n\n\"The hour has come!\" said the Badger at last with great solemnity.\n\n\"What hour?\" asked the Rat uneasily, glancing at the clock on the\nmantelpiece.\n\n\"_Whose_ hour, you should rather say,\" replied the Badger. \"Why,\nToad's hour! The hour of Toad! I said I would take him in hand as\nsoon as the winter was well over, and I'm going to take him in hand\nto-day!\"\n\n\"Toad's hour, of course!\" cried the Mole delightedly. \"Hooray! I\nremember now! _We'll_ teach him to be a sensible Toad!\"\n\n\"This very morning,\" continued the Badger, taking an arm-chair, \"as I\nlearnt last night from a trustworthy source, another new and\nexceptionally powerful motor-car will arrive at Toad Hall on approval\nor return. At this very moment, perhaps, Toad is busy arraying himself\nin those singularly hideous habiliments so dear to him, which\ntransform him from a (comparatively) good-looking Toad into an Object\nwhich throws any decent-minded animal that comes across it into a\nviolent fit. We must be up and doing, ere it is too late. You two\nanimals will accompany me instantly to Toad Hall, and the work of\nrescue shall be accomplished.\"\n\n\"Right you are!\" cried the Rat, starting up. \"We'll rescue the poor\nunhappy animal! We'll convert him! He'll be the most converted Toad\nthat ever was before we've done with him!\"\n\nThey set off up the road on their mission of mercy, Badger leading the\nway. Animals when in company walk in a proper and sensible manner, in\nsingle file, instead of sprawling all across the road and being of no\nuse or support to each other in case of sudden trouble or danger.\n\nThey reached the carriage-drive of Toad Hall to find, as Badger had\nanticipated, a shiny new motor-car, of great size, painted a bright\nred (Toad's favourite colour), standing in front of the house. As they\nneared the door it was flung open, and Mr. Toad, arrayed in goggles,\ncap, gaiters, and enormous overcoat, came swaggering down the steps,\ndrawing on his gauntleted gloves.\n\n\"Hullo! come on, you fellows!\" he cried cheerfully on catching sight\nof them. \"You're just in time to come with me for a jolly--to come for\na jolly--for a--er--jolly--\"\n\nHis hearty accents faltered and fell away as he noticed the stern\nunbending look on the countenances of his silent friends, and his\ninvitation remained unfinished.\n\nThe Badger strode up the steps. \"Take him inside,\" he said sternly to\nhis companions. Then, as Toad was hustled through the door, struggling\nand protesting, he turned to the _chauffeur_ in charge of the new\nmotor-car.\n\n\"I'm afraid you won't be wanted to-day,\" he said. \"Mr. Toad has\nchanged his mind. He will not require the car. Please understand that\nthis is final. You needn't wait.\" Then he followed the others inside\nand shut the door.\n\n\"Now then!\" he said to the Toad, when the four of them stood together\nin the Hall, \"first of all, take those ridiculous things off!\"\n\n\"Shan't!\" replied Toad, with great spirit. \"What is the meaning of\nthis gross outrage? I demand an instant explanation.\"\n\n\"Take them off him, then, you two,\" ordered the Badger briefly.\n\nThey had to lay Toad out on the floor, kicking and calling all sorts\nof names, before they could get to work properly. Then the Rat sat on\nhim, and the Mole got his motor-clothes off him bit by bit, and they\nstood him up on his legs again. A good deal of his blustering spirit\nseemed to have evaporated with the removal of his fine panoply. Now\nthat he was merely Toad, and no longer the Terror of the Highway, he\ngiggled feebly and looked from one to the other appealingly, seeming\nquite to understand the situation.\n\n\"You knew it must come to this, sooner or later, Toad,\" the Badger\nexplained severely. \"You've disregarded all the warnings we've given\nyou, you've gone on squandering the money your father left you, and\nyou're getting us animals a bad name in the district by your furious\ndriving and your smashes and your rows with the police. Independence\nis all very well, but we animals never allow our friends to make fools\nof themselves beyond a certain limit; and that limit you've reached.\nNow, you're a good fellow in many respects, and I don't want to be too\nhard on you. I'll make one more effort to bring you to reason. You\nwill come with me into the smoking-room, and there you will hear some\nfacts about yourself; and we'll see whether you come out of that room\nthe same Toad that you went in.\"\n\nHe took Toad firmly by the arm, led him into the smoking-room, and\nclosed the door behind them.\n\n\"_That's_ no good!\" said the Rat contemptuously. \"_Talking_ to Toad'll\nnever cure him. He'll _say_ anything.\"\n\nThey made themselves comfortable in arm-chairs and waited patiently.\nThrough the closed door they could just hear the long continuous drone\nof the Badger's voice, rising and falling in waves of oratory; and\npresently they noticed that the sermon began to be punctuated at\nintervals by long-drawn sobs, evidently proceeding from the bosom of\nToad, who was a soft-hearted and affectionate fellow, very easily\nconverted--for the time being--to any point of view.\n\nAfter some three-quarters of an hour the door opened, and the Badger\nreappeared, solemnly leading by the paw a very limp and dejected Toad.\nHis skin hung baggily about him, his legs wobbled, and his cheeks were\nfurrowed by the tears so plentifully called forth by the Badger's\nmoving discourse.\n\n\"Sit down there, Toad,\" said the Badger kindly, pointing to a chair.\n\"My friends,\" he went on, \"I am pleased to inform you that Toad has at\nlast seen the error of his ways. He is truly sorry for his misguided\nconduct in the past, and he has undertaken to give up motor-cars\nentirely and for ever. I have his solemn promise to that effect.\"\n\n\"That is very good news,\" said the Mole gravely.\n\n\"Very good news indeed,\" observed the Rat dubiously, \"if only--_if_\nonly--\"\n\nHe was looking very hard at Toad as he said this, and could not help\nthinking he perceived something vaguely resembling a twinkle in that\nanimal's still sorrowful eye.\n\n\"There's only one thing more to be done,\" continued the gratified\nBadger. \"Toad, I want you solemnly to repeat, before your friends\nhere, what you fully admitted to me in the smoking-room just now.\nFirst, you are sorry for what you've done, and you see the folly of it\nall?\"\n\nThere was a long, long pause. Toad looked desperately this way and\nthat, while the other animals waited in grave silence. At last he\nspoke.\n\n\"No!\" he said, a little sullenly, but stoutly; \"I'm _not_ sorry. And\nit wasn't folly at all! It was simply glorious!\"\n\n\"What?\" cried the Badger, greatly scandalised. \"You backsliding\nanimal, didn't you tell me just now, in there--\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, yes, in _there_,\" said Toad impatiently. \"I'd have said\nanything in _there_. You're so eloquent, dear Badger, and so moving,\nand so convincing, and put all your points so frightfully well--you\ncan do what you like with me in _there_, and you know it. But I've\nbeen searching my mind since, and going over things in it, and I find\nthat I'm not a bit sorry or repentant really, so it's no earthly good\nsaying I am; now, is it?\"\n\n\"Then you don't promise,\" said the Badger, \"never to touch a motor-car\nagain?\"\n\n\"Certainly not!\" replied Toad emphatically. \"On the contrary, I\nfaithfully promise that the very first motor-car I see, poop-poop! off\nI go in it!\"\n\n\"Told you so, didn't I?\" observed the Rat to the Mole.\n\n\"Very well, then,\" said the Badger firmly, rising to his feet. \"Since\nyou won't yield to persuasion, we'll try what force can do. I feared\nit would come to this all along. You've often asked us three to come\nand stay with you, Toad, in this handsome house of yours; well, now\nwe're going to. When we've converted you to a proper point of view we\nmay quit, but not before. Take him upstairs, you two, and lock him up\nin his bedroom, while we arrange matters between ourselves.\"\n\n\"It's for your own good, Toady, you know,\" said the Rat kindly, as\nToad, kicking and struggling, was hauled up the stairs by his two\nfaithful friends. \"Think what fun we shall all have together, just as\nwe used to, when you've quite got over this--this painful attack of\nyours!\"\n\n\"We'll take great care of everything for you till you're well, Toad,\"\nsaid the Mole; \"and we'll see your money isn't wasted, as it has\nbeen.\"\n\n\"No more of those regrettable incidents with the police, Toad,\" said\nthe Rat, as they thrust him into his bedroom.\n\n\"And no more weeks in hospital, being ordered about by female nurses,\nToad,\" added the Mole, turning the key on him.\n\nThey descended the stair, Toad shouting abuse at them through the\nkeyhole; and the three friends then met in conference on the\nsituation.\n\n\"It's going to be a tedious business,\" said the Badger, sighing. \"I've\nnever seen Toad so determined. However, we will see it out. He must\nnever be left an instant unguarded. We shall have to take it in turns\nto be with him, till the poison has worked itself out of his system.\"\n\nThey arranged watches accordingly. Each animal took it in turns to\nsleep in Toad's room at night, and they divided the day up between\nthem. At first Toad was undoubtedly very trying to his careful\nguardians. When his violent paroxysms possessed him he would arrange\nbedroom chairs in rude resemblance of a motor-car and would crouch on\nthe foremost of them, bent forward and staring fixedly ahead, making\nuncouth and ghastly noises, till the climax was reached, when, turning\na complete somersault, he would lie prostrate amidst the ruins of the\nchairs, apparently completely satisfied for the moment. As time\npassed, however, these painful seizures grew gradually less frequent,\nand his friends strove to divert his mind into fresh channels. But his\ninterest in other matters did not seem to revive, and he grew\napparently languid and depressed.\n\nOne fine morning the Rat, whose turn it was to go on duty, went\nupstairs to relieve Badger, whom he found fidgeting to be off and\nstretch his legs in a long ramble round his wood and down his earths\nand burrows. \"Toad's still in bed,\" he told the Rat, outside the door.\n\"Can't get much out of him, except, 'O leave him alone, he wants\nnothing, perhaps he'll be better presently, it may pass off in time,\ndon't be unduly anxious,' and so on. Now, you look out, Rat! When\nToad's quiet and submissive, and playing at being the hero of a\nSunday-school prize, then he's at his artfullest. There's sure to be\nsomething up. I know him. Well, now, I must be off.\"\n\n\"How are you to-day, old chap?\" inquired the Rat cheerfully, as he\napproached Toad's bedside.\n\nHe had to wait some minutes for an answer. At last a feeble voice\nreplied, \"Thank you so much, dear Ratty! So good of you to inquire!\nBut first tell me how you are yourself, and the excellent Mole?\"\n\n\"O, _we're_ all right,\" replied the Rat. \"Mole,\" he added\nincautiously, \"is going out for a run round with Badger. They'll be\nout till luncheon time, so you and I will spend a pleasant morning\ntogether, and I'll do my best to amuse you. Now jump up, there's a\ngood fellow, and don't lie moping there on a fine morning like this!\"\n\n\"Dear, kind Rat,\" murmured Toad, \"how little you realise my condition,\nand how very far I am from 'jumping up' now--if ever! But do not\ntrouble about me. I hate being a burden to my friends, and I do not\nexpect to be one much longer. Indeed, I almost hope not.\"\n\n\"Well, I hope not, too,\" said the Rat heartily. \"You've been a fine\nbother to us all this time, and I'm glad to hear it's going to stop.\nAnd in weather like this, and the boating season just beginning! It's\ntoo bad of you, Toad! It isn't the trouble we mind, but you're making\nus miss such an awful lot.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid it _is_ the trouble you mind, though,\" replied the Toad\nlanguidly. \"I can quite understand it. It's natural enough. You're\ntired of bothering about me. I mustn't ask you to do anything further.\nI'm a nuisance, I know.\"\n\n\"You are, indeed,\" said the Rat. \"But I tell you, I'd take any trouble\non earth for you, if only you'd be a sensible animal.\"\n\n\"If I thought that, Ratty,\" murmured Toad, more feebly than ever,\n\"then I would beg you--for the last time, probably--to step round to\nthe village as quickly as possible--even now it may be too late--and\nfetch the doctor. But don't you bother. It's only a trouble, and\nperhaps we may as well let things take their course.\"\n\n\"Why, what do you want a doctor for?\" inquired the Rat, coming closer\nand examining him. He certainly lay very still and flat, and his voice\nwas weaker and his manner much changed.\n\n\"Surely you have noticed of late--\" murmured Toad. \"But, no--why\nshould you? Noticing things is only a trouble. To-morrow, indeed, you\nmay be saying to yourself, 'O, if only I had noticed sooner! If only I\nhad done something!' But no; it's a trouble. Never mind--forget that I\nasked.\"\n\n\"Look here, old man,\" said the Rat, beginning to get rather alarmed,\n\"of course I'll fetch a doctor to you, if you really think you want\nhim. But you can hardly be bad enough for that yet. Let's talk about\nsomething else.\"\n\n\"I fear, dear friend,\" said Toad, with a sad smile, \"that 'talk' can\ndo little in a case like this--or doctors either, for that matter;\nstill, one must grasp at the slightest straw. And, by the way--while\nyou are about it--I _hate_ to give you additional trouble, but I\nhappen to remember that you will pass the door--would you mind at the\nsame time asking the lawyer to step up? It would be a convenience to\nme, and there are moments--perhaps I should say there is _a_\nmoment--when one must face disagreeable tasks, at whatever cost to\nexhausted nature!\"\n\n\"A lawyer! O, he must be really bad!\" the affrighted Rat said to\nhimself, as he hurried from the room, not forgetting, however, to lock\nthe door carefully behind him.\n\nOutside, he stopped to consider. The other two were far away, and he\nhad no one to consult.\n\n\"It's best to be on the safe side,\" he said, on reflection. \"I've\nknown Toad fancy himself frightfully bad before, without the slightest\nreason; but I've never heard him ask for a lawyer! If there's nothing\nreally the matter, the doctor will tell him he's an old ass, and cheer\nhim up; and that will be something gained. I'd better humour him and\ngo; it won't take very long.\" So he ran off to the village on his\nerrand of mercy.\n\nThe Toad, who had hopped lightly out of bed as soon as he heard the\nkey turned in the lock, watched him eagerly from the window till he\ndisappeared down the carriage-drive. Then, laughing heartily, he\ndressed as quickly as possible in the smartest suit he could lay\nhands on at the moment, filled his pockets with cash which he took\nfrom a small drawer in the dressing-table, and next, knotting the\nsheets from his bed together and tying one end of the improvised rope\nround the central mullion of the handsome Tudor window which formed\nsuch a feature of his bedroom, he scrambled out, slid lightly to the\nground, and, taking the opposite direction to the Rat, marched off\nlight-heartedly, whistling a merry tune.\n\nIt was a gloomy luncheon for Rat when the Badger and the Mole at\nlength returned, and he had to face them at table with his pitiful and\nunconvincing story. The Badger's caustic, not to say brutal, remarks\nmay be imagined, and therefore passed over; but it was painful to the\nRat that even the Mole, though he took his friend's side as far as\npossible, could not help saying, \"You've been a bit of a duffer this\ntime, Ratty! Toad, too, of all animals!\"\n\n\"He did it awfully well,\" said the crestfallen Rat.\n\n\"He did _you_ awfully well!\" rejoined the Badger hotly. \"However,\ntalking won't mend matters. He's got clear away for the time, that's\ncertain; and the worst of it is, he'll be so conceited with what he'll\nthink is his cleverness that he may commit any folly. One comfort is,\nwe're free now, and needn't waste any more of our precious time doing\nsentry-go. But we'd better continue to sleep at Toad Hall for a while\nlonger. Toad may be brought back at any moment--on a stretcher, or\nbetween two policemen.\"\n\nSo spoke the Badger, not knowing what the future held in store, or how\nmuch water, and of how turbid a character, was to run under bridges\nbefore Toad should sit at ease again in his ancestral Hall.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMeanwhile, Toad, gay and irresponsible, was walking briskly along the\nhigh road, some miles from home. At first he had taken by-paths, and\ncrossed many fields, and changed his course several times, in case of\npursuit; but now, feeling by this time safe from recapture, and the\nsun smiling brightly on him, and all Nature joining in a chorus of\napproval to the song of self-praise that his own heart was singing to\nhim, he almost danced along the road in his satisfaction and conceit.\n\n\"Smart piece of work that!\" he remarked to himself chuckling. \"Brain\nagainst brute force--and brain came out on the top--as it's bound to\ndo. Poor old Ratty! My! won't he catch it when the Badger gets back! A\nworthy fellow, Ratty, with many good qualities, but very little\nintelligence and absolutely no education. I must take him in hand some\nday, and see if I can make something of him.\"\n\nFilled full of conceited thoughts such as these he strode along, his\nhead in the air, till he reached a little town, where the sign of \"The\nRed Lion,\" swinging across the road half-way down the main street,\nreminded him that he had not breakfasted that day, and that he was\nexceedingly hungry after his long walk. He marched into the Inn,\nordered the best luncheon that could be provided at so short a notice,\nand sat down to eat it in the coffee-room.\n\nHe was about half-way through his meal when an only too familiar sound,\napproaching down the street, made him start and fall a-trembling all\nover. The poop-poop! drew nearer and nearer, the car could be heard to\nturn into the inn-yard and come to a stop, and Toad had to hold on to\nthe leg of the table to conceal his over-mastering emotion. Presently\nthe party entered the coffee-room, hungry, talkative, and gay, voluble\non their experiences of the morning and the merits of the chariot that\nhad brought them along so well. Toad listened eagerly, all ears, for a\ntime; at last he could stand it no longer. He slipped out of the room\nquietly, paid his bill at the bar, and as soon as he got outside\nsauntered round quietly to the inn-yard. \"There cannot be any harm,\" he\nsaid to himself, \"in my only just _looking_ at it!\"\n\nThe car stood in the middle of the yard, quite unattended, the\nstable-helps and other hangers-on being all at their dinner. Toad\nwalked slowly round it, inspecting, criticising, musing deeply.\n\n\"I wonder,\" he said to himself presently, \"I wonder if this sort of\ncar _starts_ easily?\"\n\nNext moment, hardly knowing how it came about, he found he had hold of\nthe handle and was turning it. As the familiar sound broke forth, the\nold passion seized on Toad and completely mastered him, body and soul.\nAs if in a dream he found himself, somehow, seated in the driver's\nseat; as if in a dream, he pulled the lever and swung the car round\nthe yard and out through the archway; and, as if in a dream, all sense\nof right and wrong, all fear of obvious consequences, seemed\ntemporarily suspended. He increased his pace, and as the car devoured\nthe street and leapt forth on the high road through the open country,\nhe was only conscious that he was Toad once more, Toad at his best and\nhighest, Toad the terror, the traffic-queller, the Lord of the lone\ntrail, before whom all must give way or be smitten into nothingness\nand everlasting night. He chanted as he flew, and the car responded\nwith sonorous drone; the miles were eaten up under him as he sped he\nknew not whither, fulfilling his instincts, living his hour, reckless\nof what might come to him.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"To my mind,\" observed the Chairman of the Bench of Magistrates\ncheerfully, \"the _only_ difficulty that presents itself in this\notherwise very clear case is, how we can possibly make it sufficiently\nhot for the incorrigible rogue and hardened ruffian whom we see\ncowering in the dock before us. Let me see: he has been found guilty,\non the clearest evidence, first, of stealing a valuable motor-car;\nsecondly, of driving to the public danger; and, thirdly, of gross\nimpertinence to the rural police. Mr. Clerk, will you tell us, please,\nwhat is the very stiffest penalty we can impose for each of these\noffences? Without, of course, giving the prisoner the benefit of any\ndoubt, because there isn't any.\"\n\nThe Clerk scratched his nose with his pen. \"Some people would\nconsider,\" he observed, \"that stealing the motor-car was the worst\noffence; and so it is. But cheeking the police undoubtedly carries the\nseverest penalty; and so it ought. Supposing you were to say twelve\nmonths for the theft, which is mild; and three years for the furious\ndriving, which is lenient; and fifteen years for the cheek, which was\npretty bad sort of cheek, judging by what we've heard from the\nwitness-box, even if you only believe one-tenth part of what you\nheard, and I never believe more myself--those figures, if added\ntogether correctly, tot up to nineteen years--\"\n\n\"First-rate!\" said the Chairman.\n\n\"--So you had better make it a round twenty years and be on the safe\nside,\" concluded the Clerk.\n\n\"An excellent suggestion!\" said the Chairman approvingly. \"Prisoner!\nPull yourself together and try and stand up straight. It's going to be\ntwenty years for you this time. And mind, if you appear before us\nagain, upon any charge whatever, we shall have to deal with you very\nseriously!\"\n\nThen the brutal minions of the law fell upon the hapless Toad; loaded\nhim with chains, and dragged him from the Court House, shrieking,\npraying, protesting; across the market-place, where the playful\npopulace, always as severe upon detected crime as they are sympathetic\nand helpful when one is merely \"wanted,\" assailed him with jeers,\ncarrots, and popular catch-words; past hooting school children, their\ninnocent faces lit up with the pleasure they ever derive from the\nsight of a gentleman in difficulties; across the hollow-sounding\ndrawbridge, below the spiky portcullis, under the frowning archway of\nthe grim old castle, whose ancient towers soared high overhead; past\nguardrooms full of grinning soldiery off duty, past sentries who\ncoughed in a horrid, sarcastic way, because that is as much as a\nsentry on his post dare do to show his contempt and abhorrence of\ncrime; up time-worn winding stairs, past men-at-arms in casquet and\ncorselet of steel, darting threatening looks through their vizards;\nacross courtyards, where mastiffs strained at their leash and pawed\nthe air to get at him; past ancient warders, their halberds leant\nagainst the wall, dozing over a pasty and a flagon of brown ale; on\nand on, past the rack-chamber and the thumbscrew-room, past the\nturning that led to the private scaffold, till they reached the door\nof the grimmest dungeon that lay in the heart of the innermost keep.\nThere at last they paused, where an ancient gaoler sat fingering a\nbunch of mighty keys.\n\n[Illustration: _Toad was a helpless prisoner in the remotest dungeon_]\n\n\"Oddsbodikins!\" said the sergeant of police, taking off his helmet and\nwiping his forehead. \"Rouse thee, old loon, and take over from us this\nvile Toad, a criminal of deepest guilt and matchless artfulness and\nresource. Watch and ward him with all thy skill; and mark thee well,\ngreybeard, should aught untoward befall, thy old head shall answer for\nhis--and a murrain on both of them!\"\n\nThe gaoler nodded grimly, laying his withered hand on the shoulder of\nthe miserable Toad. The rusty key creaked in the lock, the great door\nclanged behind them; and Toad was a helpless prisoner in the remotest\ndungeon of the best-guarded keep of the stoutest castle in all the\nlength and breadth of Merry England.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nTHE PIPER AT THE GATES OF DAWN\n\n\nThe Willow-Wren was twittering his thin little song, hidden himself in\nthe dark selvedge of the river bank. Though it was past ten o'clock at\nnight, the sky still clung to and retained some lingering skirts of\nlight from the departed day; and the sullen heats of the torrid\nafternoon broke up and rolled away at the dispersing touch of the cool\nfingers of the short midsummer night. Mole lay stretched on the bank,\nstill panting from the stress of the fierce day that had been\ncloudless from dawn to late sunset, and waited for his friend to\nreturn. He had been on the river with some companions, leaving the\nWater Rat free to keep an engagement of long standing with Otter; and\nhe had come back to find the house dark and deserted, and no sign of\nRat, who was doubtless keeping it up late with his old comrade. It\nwas still too hot to think of staying indoors, so he lay on some cool\ndock-leaves, and thought over the past day and its doings, and how\nvery good they all had been.\n\nThe Rat's light footfall was presently heard approaching over the\nparched grass. \"O, the blessed coolness!\" he said, and sat down,\ngazing thoughtfully into the river, silent and pre-occupied.\n\n\"You stayed to supper, of course?\" said the Mole presently.\n\n\"Simply had to,\" said the Rat. \"They wouldn't hear of my going before.\nYou know how kind they always are. And they made things as jolly for\nme as ever they could, right up to the moment I left. But I felt a\nbrute all the time, as it was clear to me they were very unhappy,\nthough they tried to hide it. Mole, I'm afraid they're in trouble.\nLittle Portly is missing again; and you know what a lot his father\nthinks of him, though he never says much about it.\"\n\n\"What, that child?\" said the Mole lightly. \"Well, suppose he is; why\nworry about it? He's always straying off and getting lost, and turning\nup again; he's so adventurous. But no harm ever happens to him.\nEverybody hereabouts knows him and likes him, just as they do old\nOtter, and you may be sure some animal or other will come across him\nand bring him back again all right. Why, we've found him ourselves,\nmiles from home, and quite self-possessed and cheerful!\"\n\n\"Yes; but this time it's more serious,\" said the Rat gravely. \"He's\nbeen missing for some days now, and the Otters have hunted everywhere,\nhigh and low, without finding the slightest trace. And they've asked\nevery animal, too, for miles around, and no one knows anything about\nhim. Otter's evidently more anxious than he'll admit. I got out of him\nthat young Portly hasn't learnt to swim very well yet, and I can see\nhe's thinking of the weir. There's a lot of water coming down still,\nconsidering the time of the year, and the place always had a\nfascination for the child. And then there are--well, traps and\nthings--_you_ know. Otter's not the fellow to be nervous about any\nson of his before it's time. And now he _is_ nervous. When I left, he\ncame out with me--said he wanted some air, and talked about stretching\nhis legs. But I could see it wasn't that, so I drew him out and pumped\nhim, and got it all from him at last. He was going to spend the night\nwatching by the ford. You know the place where the old ford used to\nbe, in by-gone days before they built the bridge?\"\n\n\"I know it well,\" said the Mole. \"But why should Otter choose to watch\nthere?\"\n\n\"Well, it seems that it was there he gave Portly his first\nswimming-lesson,\" continued the Rat. \"From that shallow, gravelly spit\nnear the bank. And it was there he used to teach him fishing, and\nthere young Portly caught his first fish, of which he was so very\nproud. The child loved the spot, and Otter thinks that if he came\nwandering back from wherever he is--if he _is_ anywhere by this time,\npoor little chap--he might make for the ford he was so fond of; or if\nhe came across it he'd remember it well, and stop there and play,\nperhaps. So Otter goes there every night and watches--on the chance,\nyou know, just on the chance!\"\n\nThey were silent for a time, both thinking of the same thing--the\nlonely, heart-sore animal, crouched by the ford, watching and waiting,\nthe long night through--on the chance.\n\n\"Well, well,\" said the Rat presently, \"I suppose we ought to be\nthinking about turning in.\" But he never offered to move.\n\n\"Rat,\" said the Mole, \"I simply can't go and turn in, and go to sleep,\nand _do_ nothing, even though there doesn't seem to be anything to be\ndone. We'll get the boat out, and paddle upstream. The moon will be up\nin an hour or so, and then we will search as well as we can--anyhow,\nit will be better than going to bed and doing _nothing_.\"\n\n\"Just what I was thinking myself,\" said the Rat. \"It's not the sort of\nnight for bed anyhow; and daybreak is not so very far off, and then we\nmay pick up some news of him from early risers as we go along.\"\n\nThey got the boat out, and the Rat took the sculls, paddling with\ncaution. Out in mid-stream, there was a clear, narrow track that\nfaintly reflected the sky; but wherever shadows fell on the water from\nbank, bush, or tree, they were as solid to all appearance as the banks\nthemselves, and the Mole had to steer with judgment accordingly. Dark\nand deserted as it was, the night was full of small noises, song and\nchatter and rustling, telling of the busy little population who were\nup and about, plying their trades and vocations through the night till\nsunshine should fall on them at last and send them off to their\nwell-earned repose. The water's own noises, too, were more apparent\nthan by day, its gurglings and \"cloops\" more unexpected and near at\nhand; and constantly they started at what seemed a sudden clear call\nfrom an actual articulate voice.\n\nThe line of the horizon was clear and hard against the sky, and in one\nparticular quarter it showed black against a silvery climbing\nphosphorescence that grew and grew. At last, over the rim of the\nwaiting earth the moon lifted with slow majesty till it swung clear of\nthe horizon and rode off, free of moorings; and once more they began\nto see surfaces--meadows wide-spread, and quiet gardens, and the river\nitself from bank to bank, all softly disclosed, all washed clean of\nmystery and terror, all radiant again as by day, but with a difference\nthat was tremendous. Their old haunts greeted them again in other\nraiment, as if they had slipped away and put on this pure new apparel\nand come quietly back, smiling as they shyly waited to see if they\nwould be recognised again under it.\n\nFastening their boat to a willow, the friends landed in this silent,\nsilver kingdom, and patiently explored the hedges, the hollow trees,\nthe runnels and their little culverts, the ditches and dry water-ways.\nEmbarking again and crossing over, they worked their way up the stream\nin this manner, while the moon, serene and detached in a cloudless\nsky, did what she could, though so far off, to help them in their\nquest; till her hour came and she sank earthwards reluctantly, and\nleft them, and mystery once more held field and river.\n\nThen a change began slowly to declare itself. The horizon became\nclearer, field and tree came more into sight, and somehow with a\ndifferent look; the mystery began to drop away from them. A bird piped\nsuddenly, and was still; and a light breeze sprang up and set the\nreeds and bulrushes rustling. Rat, who was in the stern of the boat,\nwhile Mole sculled, sat up suddenly and listened with a passionate\nintentness. Mole, who with gentle strokes was just keeping the boat\nmoving while he scanned the banks with care, looked at him with\ncuriosity.\n\n\"It's gone!\" sighed the Rat, sinking back in his seat again. \"So\nbeautiful and strange and new! Since it was to end so soon, I almost\nwish I had never heard it. For it has roused a longing in me that is\npain, and nothing seems worth while but just to hear that sound once\nmore and go on listening to it for ever. No! There it is again!\" he\ncried, alert once more. Entranced, he was silent for a long space,\nspellbound.\n\n\"Now it passes on and I begin to lose it,\" he said presently. \"O Mole!\nthe beauty of it! The merry bubble and joy, the thin, clear, happy\ncall of the distant piping! Such music I never dreamed of, and the\ncall in it is stronger even than the music is sweet! Row on, Mole,\nrow! For the music and the call must be for us.\"\n\nThe Mole, greatly wondering, obeyed. \"I hear nothing myself,\" he said,\n\"but the wind playing in the reeds and rushes and osiers.\"\n\nThe Rat never answered, if indeed he heard. Rapt, transported,\ntrembling, he was possessed in all his senses by this new divine thing\nthat caught up his helpless soul and swung and dandled it, a powerless\nbut happy infant in a strong sustaining grasp.\n\nIn silence Mole rowed steadily, and soon they came to a point where the\nriver divided, a long backwater branching off to one side. With a slight\nmovement of his head Rat, who had long dropped the rudder-lines,\ndirected the rower to take the backwater. The creeping tide of light\ngained and gained, and now they could see the colour of the flowers that\ngemmed the water's edge.\n\n\"Clearer and nearer still,\" cried the Rat joyously. \"Now you must\nsurely hear it! Ah--at last--I see you do!\"\n\nBreathless and transfixed, the Mole stopped rowing as the liquid run\nof that glad piping broke on him like a wave, caught him up, and\npossessed him utterly. He saw the tears on his comrade's cheeks, and\nbowed his head and understood. For a space they hung there, brushed by\nthe purple loosestrife that fringed the bank; then the clear imperious\nsummons that marched hand-in-hand with the intoxicating melody imposed\nits will on Mole, and mechanically he bent to his oars again. And the\nlight grew steadily stronger, but no birds sang as they were wont to\ndo at the approach of dawn; and but for the heavenly music all was\nmarvellously still.\n\nOn either side of them, as they glided onwards, the rich meadow-grass\nseemed that morning of a freshness and a greenness unsurpassable.\nNever had they noticed the roses so vivid, the willow-herb so riotous,\nthe meadow-sweet so odorous and pervading. Then the murmur of the\napproaching weir began to hold the air, and they felt a consciousness\nthat they were nearing the end, whatever it might be, that surely\nawaited their expedition.\n\nA wide half-circle of foam and glinting lights and shining shoulders\nof green water, the great weir closed the backwater from bank to bank,\ntroubled all the quiet surface with twirling eddies and floating\nfoam-streaks, and deadened all other sounds with its solemn and\nsoothing rumble. In midmost of the stream, embraced in the weir's\nshimmering arm-spread, a small island lay anchored, fringed close with\nwillow and silver birch and alder. Reserved, shy, but full of\nsignificance, it hid whatever it might hold behind a veil, keeping it\ntill the hour should come, and, with the hour, those who were called\nand chosen.\n\nSlowly, but with no doubt or hesitation whatever, and in something of\na solemn expectancy, the two animals passed through the broken,\ntumultuous water and moored their boat at the flowery margin of the\nisland. In silence they landed, and pushed through the blossom and\nscented herbage and undergrowth that led up to the level ground, till\nthey stood on a little lawn of a marvellous green, set round with\nNature's own orchard-trees--crab-apple, wild cherry, and sloe.\n\n\"This is the place of my song-dream, the place the music played to\nme,\" whispered the Rat, as if in a trance. \"Here, in this holy place,\nhere if anywhere, surely we shall find Him!\"\n\nThen suddenly the Mole felt a great Awe fall upon him, an awe that\nturned his muscles to water, bowed his head, and rooted his feet to\nthe ground. It was no panic terror--indeed he felt wonderfully at\npeace and happy--but it was an awe that smote and held him and,\nwithout seeing, he knew it could only mean that some august Presence\nwas very, very near. With difficulty he turned to look for his friend,\nand saw him at his side, cowed, stricken, and trembling violently. And\nstill there was utter silence in the populous bird-haunted branches\naround them; and still the light grew and grew.\n\nPerhaps he would never have dared to raise his eyes, but that, though\nthe piping was now hushed, the call and the summons seemed still\ndominant and imperious. He might not refuse, were Death himself\nwaiting to strike him instantly, once he had looked with mortal eye on\nthings rightly kept hidden. Trembling he obeyed, and raised his humble\nhead; and then, in that utter clearness of the imminent dawn, while\nNature, flushed with fulness of incredible colour, seemed to hold her\nbreath for the event, he looked in the very eyes of the Friend and\nHelper; saw the backward sweep of the curved horns, gleaming in the\ngrowing daylight; saw the stern, hooked nose between the kindly eyes\nthat were looking down on them humorously, while the bearded mouth\nbroke into a half-smile at the corners; saw the rippling muscles on\nthe arm that lay across the broad chest, the long supple hand still\nholding the pan-pipes only just fallen away from the parted lips; saw\nthe splendid curves of the shaggy limbs disposed in majestic ease on\nthe sward; saw, last of all, nestling between his very hooves,\nsleeping soundly in entire peace and contentment, the little, round,\npodgy, childish form of the baby otter. All this he saw, for one\nmoment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still,\nas he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered.\n\n\"Rat!\" he found breath to whisper, shaking. \"Are you afraid?\"\n\n\"Afraid?\" murmured the Rat, his eyes shining with unutterable love.\n\"Afraid! Of _Him_? O, never, never! And yet--and yet--O, Mole, I am\nafraid!\"\n\nThen the two animals, crouching to the earth, bowed their heads and\ndid worship.\n\nSudden and magnificent, the sun's broad golden disc showed itself over\nthe horizon facing them; and the first rays, shooting across the level\nwater-meadows, took the animals full in the eyes and dazzled them.\nWhen they were able to look once more, the Vision had vanished, and\nthe air was full of the carol of birds that hailed the dawn.\n\nAs they stared blankly, in dumb misery deepening as they slowly realised\nall they had seen and all they had lost, a capricious little breeze,\ndancing up from the surface of the water, tossed the aspens, shook the\ndewy roses, and blew lightly and caressingly in their faces; and with\nits soft touch came instant oblivion. For this is the last best gift\nthat the kindly demi-god is careful to bestow on those to whom he has\nrevealed himself in their helping: the gift of forgetfulness. Lest the\nawful remembrance should remain and grow, and overshadow mirth and\npleasure, and the great haunting memory should spoil all the after-lives\nof little animals helped out of difficulties, in order that they should\nbe happy and light-hearted as before.\n\nMole rubbed his eyes and stared at Rat, who was looking about him in a\npuzzled sort of way. \"I beg your pardon; what did you say, Rat?\" he\nasked.\n\n\"I think I was only remarking,\" said Rat slowly, \"that this was the\nright sort of place, and that here, if anywhere, we should find him.\nAnd look! Why, there he is, the little fellow!\" And with a cry of\ndelight he ran towards the slumbering Portly.\n\nBut Mole stood still a moment, held in thought. As one wakened\nsuddenly from a beautiful dream, who struggles to recall it, and can\nrecapture nothing but a dim sense of the beauty of it, the beauty!\nTill that, too, fades away in its turn, and the dreamer bitterly\naccepts the hard, cold waking and all its penalties; so Mole, after\nstruggling with his memory for a brief space, shook his head sadly and\nfollowed the Rat.\n\nPortly woke up with a joyous squeak, and wriggled with pleasure at the\nsight of his father's friends, who had played with him so often in past\ndays. In a moment, however, his face grew blank, and he fell to hunting\nround in a circle with pleading whine. As a child that has fallen\nhappily asleep in its nurse's arms, and wakes to find itself alone and\nlaid in a strange place, and searches corners and cupboards, and runs\nfrom room to room, despair growing silently in its heart, even so Portly\nsearched the island and searched, dogged and unwearying, till at last\nthe black moment came for giving it up, and sitting down and crying\nbitterly.\n\nThe Mole ran quickly to comfort the little animal; but Rat, lingering,\nlooked long and doubtfully at certain hoof-marks deep in the sward.\n\n\"Some--great--animal--has been here,\" he murmured slowly and\nthoughtfully; and stood musing, musing; his mind strangely stirred.\n\n\"Come along, Rat!\" called the Mole. \"Think of poor Otter, waiting up\nthere by the ford!\"\n\nPortly had soon been comforted by the promise of a treat--a jaunt on\nthe river in Mr. Rat's real boat; and the two animals conducted him to\nthe water's side, placed him securely between them in the bottom of\nthe boat, and paddled off down the backwater. The sun was fully up by\nnow, and hot on them, birds sang lustily and without restraint, and\nflowers smiled and nodded from either bank, but somehow--so thought\nthe animals--with less of richness and blaze of colour than they\nseemed to remember seeing quite recently somewhere--they wondered\nwhere.\n\nThe main river reached again, they turned the boat's head upstream,\ntowards the point where they knew their friend was keeping his lonely\nvigil. As they drew near the familiar ford, the Mole took the boat in\nto the bank, and they lifted Portly out and set him on his legs on\nthe tow-path, gave him his marching orders and a friendly farewell pat\non the back, and shoved out into mid-stream. They watched the little\nanimal as he waddled along the path contentedly and with importance;\nwatched him till they saw his muzzle suddenly lift and his waddle\nbreak into a clumsy amble as he quickened his pace with shrill whines\nand wriggles of recognition. Looking up the river, they could see\nOtter start up, tense and rigid, from out of the shallows where he\ncrouched in dumb patience, and could hear his amazed and joyous bark\nas he bounded up through the osiers on to the path. Then the Mole,\nwith a strong pull on one oar, swung the boat round and let the full\nstream bear them down again whither it would, their quest now happily\nended.\n\n\"I feel strangely tired, Rat,\" said the Mole, leaning wearily over his\noars, as the boat drifted. \"It's being up all night, you'll say,\nperhaps; but that's nothing. We do as much half the nights of the\nweek, at this time of the year. No; I feel as if I had been through\nsomething very exciting and rather terrible, and it was just over;\nand yet nothing particular has happened.\"\n\n\"Or something very surprising and splendid and beautiful,\" murmured\nthe Rat, leaning back and closing his eyes. \"I feel just as you do,\nMole; simply dead tired, though not body-tired. It's lucky we've got\nthe stream with us, to take us home. Isn't it jolly to feel the sun\nagain, soaking into one's bones! And hark to the wind playing in the\nreeds!\"\n\n\"It's like music--far-away music,\" said the Mole, nodding drowsily.\n\n\"So I was thinking,\" murmured the Rat, dreamful and languid.\n\"Dance-music--the lilting sort that runs on without a stop--but with\nwords in it, too--it passes into words and out of them again--I catch\nthem at intervals--then it is dance-music once more, and then nothing\nbut the reeds' soft thin whispering.\"\n\n\"You hear better than I,\" said the Mole sadly. \"I cannot catch the\nwords.\"\n\n\"Let me try and give you them,\" said the Rat softly, his eyes still\nclosed. \"Now it is turning into words again--faint but clear--_Lest\nthe awe should dwell--And turn your frolic to fret--You shall look on\nmy power at the helping hour--But then you shall forget!_ Now the\nreeds take it up--_forget, forget_, they sigh, and it dies away in a\nrustle and a whisper. Then the voice returns--\n\n\"_Lest limbs be reddened and rent--I spring the trap that is set--As I\nloose the snare you may glimpse me there--For surely you shall\nforget!_ Row nearer, Mole, nearer to the reeds! It is hard to catch,\nand grows each minute fainter.\n\n\"_Helper and healer, I cheer--Small waifs in the woodland wet--Strays\nI find in it, wounds I bind in it--Bidding them all forget!_ Nearer,\nMole, nearer! No, it is no good; the song has died away into\nreed-talk.\"\n\n\"But what do the words mean?\" asked the wondering Mole.\n\n\"That I do not know,\" said the Rat simply. \"I passed them on to you as\nthey reached me. Ah! now they return again, and this time full and\nclear! This time, at last, it is the real, the unmistakable thing,\nsimple--passionate--perfect--\"\n\n\"Well, let's have it, then,\" said the Mole, after he had waited\npatiently for a few minutes, half-dozing in the hot sun.\n\nBut no answer came. He looked, and understood the silence. With a\nsmile of much happiness on his face, and something of a listening look\nstill lingering there, the weary Rat was fast asleep.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nTOAD'S ADVENTURES\n\n\nWhen Toad found himself immured in a dank and noisome dungeon, and\nknew that all the grim darkness of a medieval fortress lay between him\nand the outer world of sunshine and well-metalled high roads where he\nhad lately been so happy, disporting himself as if he had bought up\nevery road in England, he flung himself at full length on the floor,\nand shed bitter tears, and abandoned himself to dark despair. \"This is\nthe end of everything\" (he said), \"at least it is the end of the\ncareer of Toad, which is the same thing; the popular and handsome\nToad, the rich and hospitable Toad, the Toad so free and careless and\ndebonair! How can I hope to be ever set at large again\" (he said),\n\"who have been imprisoned so justly for stealing so handsome a\nmotor-car in such an audacious manner, and for such lurid and\nimaginative cheek, bestowed upon such a number of fat, red-faced\npolicemen!\" (Here his sobs choked him.) \"Stupid animal that I was\" (he\nsaid), \"now I must languish in this dungeon, till people who were\nproud to say they knew me, have forgotten the very name of Toad! O\nwise old Badger!\" (he said), \"O clever, intelligent Rat and sensible\nMole! What sound judgments, what a knowledge of men and matters you\npossess! O unhappy and forsaken Toad!\" With lamentations such as these\nhe passed his days and nights for several weeks, refusing his meals or\nintermediate light refreshments, though the grim and ancient gaoler,\nknowing that Toad's pockets were well lined, frequently pointed out\nthat many comforts, and indeed luxuries, could by arrangement be sent\nin--at a price--from outside.\n\nNow the gaoler had a daughter, a pleasant wench and good-hearted, who\nassisted her father in the lighter duties of his post. She was\nparticularly fond of animals, and, besides her canary, whose cage hung\non a nail in the massive wall of the keep by day, to the great\nannoyance of prisoners who relished an after-dinner nap, and was\nshrouded in an antimacassar on the parlour table at night, she kept\nseveral piebald mice and a restless revolving squirrel. This\nkind-hearted girl, pitying the misery of Toad, said to her father one\nday, \"Father! I can't bear to see that poor beast so unhappy, and\ngetting so thin! You let me have the managing of him. You know how\nfond of animals I am. I'll make him eat from my hand, and sit up, and\ndo all sorts of things.\"\n\nHer father replied that she could do what she liked with him. He was\ntired of Toad, and his sulks and his airs and his meanness. So that\nday she went on her errand of mercy, and knocked at the door of Toad's\ncell.\n\n\"Now, cheer up, Toad,\" she said, coaxingly, on entering, \"and sit up\nand dry your eyes and be a sensible animal. And do try and eat a bit\nof dinner. See, I've brought you some of mine, hot from the oven!\"\n\nIt was bubble-and-squeak, between two plates, and its fragrance filled\nthe narrow cell. The penetrating smell of cabbage reached the nose of\nToad as he lay prostrate in his misery on the floor, and gave him the\nidea for a moment that perhaps life was not such a blank and desperate\nthing as he had imagined. But still he wailed, and kicked with his legs,\nand refused to be comforted. So the wise girl retired for the time, but,\nof course, a good deal of the smell of hot cabbage remained behind, as it\nwill do, and Toad, between his sobs, sniffed and reflected, and gradually\nbegan to think new and inspiring thoughts: of chivalry, and poetry, and\ndeeds still to be done; of broad meadows, and cattle browsing in them,\nraked by sun and wind; of kitchen-gardens, and straight herb-borders, and\nwarm snap-dragon beset by bees; and of the comforting clink of dishes set\ndown on the table at Toad Hall, and the scrape of chair-legs on the floor\nas every one pulled himself close up to his work. The air of the narrow\ncell took a rosy tinge; he began to think of his friends, and how they\nwould surely be able to do something; of lawyers, and how they would have\nenjoyed his case, and what an ass he had been not to get in a few; and\nlastly, he thought of his own great cleverness and resource, and all\nthat he was capable of if he only gave his great mind to it; and the\ncure was almost complete.\n\n[Illustration: _He lay prostrate in his misery on the floor_]\n\nWhen the girl returned, some hours later, she carried a tray, with a\ncup of fragrant tea steaming on it; and a plate piled up with very hot\nbuttered toast, cut thick, very brown on both sides, with the butter\nrunning through the holes in it in great golden drops, like honey from\nthe honeycomb. The smell of that buttered toast simply talked to Toad,\nand with no uncertain voice; talked of warm kitchens, of breakfasts on\nbright frosty mornings, of cosy parlour firesides on winter evenings,\nwhen one's ramble was over, and slippered feet were propped on the\nfender; of the purring of contented cats, and the twitter of sleepy\ncanaries. Toad sat up on end once more, dried his eyes, sipped his tea\nand munched his toast, and soon began talking freely about himself,\nand the house he lived in, and his doings there, and how important he\nwas, and what a lot his friends thought of him.\n\nThe gaoler's daughter saw that the topic was doing him as much good\nas the tea, as indeed it was, and encouraged him to go on.\n\n\"Tell me about Toad Hall,\" said she. \"It sounds beautiful.\"\n\n\"Toad Hall,\" said the Toad proudly, \"is an eligible, self-contained\ngentleman's residence, very unique; dating in part from the fourteenth\ncentury, but replete with every modern convenience. Up-to-date\nsanitation. Five minutes from church, post-office, and golf-links.\nSuitable for--\"\n\n\"Bless the animal,\" said the girl, laughing, \"I don't want to _take_\nit. Tell me something _real_ about it. But first wait till I fetch you\nsome more tea and toast.\"\n\nShe tripped away, and presently returned with a fresh trayful; and Toad,\npitching into the toast with avidity, his spirits quite restored to\ntheir usual level, told her about the boat-house, and the fish-pond, and\nthe old walled kitchen-garden; and about the pig-styes and the stables,\nand the pigeon-house and the hen-house; and about the dairy, and the\nwash-house, and the china-cupboards, and the linen-presses (she liked\nthat bit especially); and about the banqueting-hall, and the fun they\nhad there when the other animals were gathered round the table and Toad\nwas at his best, singing songs, telling stories, carrying on generally.\nThen she wanted to know about his animal-friends, and was very\ninterested in all he had to tell her about them and how they lived, and\nwhat they did to pass their time. Of course, she did not say she was\nfond of animals as _pets_, because she had the sense to see that Toad\nwould be extremely offended. When she said good-night, having filled his\nwater-jug and shaken up his straw for him, Toad was very much the same\nsanguine, self-satisfied animal that he had been of old. He sang a\nlittle song or two, of the sort he used to sing at his dinner-parties,\ncurled himself up in the straw, and had an excellent night's rest and\nthe pleasantest of dreams.\n\nThey had many interesting talks together, after that, as the dreary\ndays went on; and the gaoler's daughter grew very sorry for Toad, and\nthought it a great shame that a poor little animal should be locked\nup in prison for what seemed to her a very trivial offence. Toad, of\ncourse, in his vanity, thought that her interest in him proceeded from\na growing tenderness; and he could not help half-regretting that the\nsocial gulf between them was so very wide, for she was a comely lass,\nand evidently admired him very much.\n\nOne morning the girl was very thoughtful, and answered at random, and\ndid not seem to Toad to be paying proper attention to his witty\nsayings and sparkling comments.\n\n\"Toad,\" she said presently, \"just listen, please. I have an aunt who\nis a washerwoman.\"\n\n\"There, there,\" said Toad, graciously and affably, \"never mind; think\nno more about it. _I_ have several aunts who _ought_ to be\nwasherwomen.\"\n\n\"Do be quiet a minute, Toad,\" said the girl. \"You talk too much,\nthat's your chief fault, and I'm trying to think, and you hurt my\nhead. As I said, I have an aunt who is a washerwoman; she does the\nwashing for all the prisoners in this castle--we try to keep any\npaying business of that sort in the family, you understand. She takes\nout the washing on Monday morning, and brings it in on Friday evening.\nThis is a Thursday. Now, this is what occurs to me: you're very\nrich--at least you're always telling me so--and she's very poor. A few\npounds wouldn't make any difference to you, and it would mean a lot to\nher. Now, I think if she were properly approached--squared, I believe\nis the word you animals use--you could come to some arrangement by\nwhich she would let you have her dress and bonnet and so on, and you\ncould escape from the castle as the official washerwoman. You're very\nalike in many respects--particularly about the figure.\"\n\n\"We're _not_,\" said the Toad in a huff. \"I have a very elegant\nfigure--for what I am.\"\n\n\"So has my aunt,\" replied the girl, \"for what _she_ is. But have it\nyour own way. You horrid, proud, ungrateful animal, when I'm sorry for\nyou, and trying to help you!\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, that's all right; thank you very much indeed,\" said the\nToad hurriedly. \"But look here! you wouldn't surely have Mr. Toad, of\nToad Hall, going about the country disguised as a washerwoman!\"\n\n\"Then you can stop here as a Toad,\" replied the girl with much spirit.\n\"I suppose you want to go off in a coach-and-four!\"\n\nHonest Toad was always ready to admit himself in the wrong. \"You are a\ngood, kind, clever girl,\" he said, \"and I am indeed a proud and a\nstupid toad. Introduce me to your worthy aunt, if you will be so kind,\nand I have no doubt that the excellent lady and I will be able to\narrange terms satisfactory to both parties.\"\n\nNext evening the girl ushered her aunt into Toad's cell, bearing his\nweek's washing pinned up in a towel. The old lady had been prepared\nbeforehand for the interview, and the sight of certain gold sovereigns\nthat Toad had thoughtfully placed on the table in full view practically\ncompleted the matter and left little further to discuss. In return for\nhis cash, Toad received a cotton print gown, an apron, a shawl, and a\nrusty black bonnet; the only stipulation the old lady made being that\nshe should be gagged and bound and dumped down in a corner. By this not\nvery convincing artifice, she explained, aided by picturesque fiction\nwhich she could supply herself, she hoped to retain her situation, in\nspite of the suspicious appearance of things.\n\nToad was delighted with the suggestion. It would enable him to leave the\nprison in some style, and with his reputation for being a desperate and\ndangerous fellow untarnished; and he readily helped the gaoler's\ndaughter to make her aunt appear as much as possible the victim of\ncircumstances over which she had no control.\n\n\"Now it's your turn, Toad,\" said the girl. \"Take off that coat and\nwaistcoat of yours; you're fat enough as it is.\"\n\nShaking with laughter, she proceeded to \"hook-and-eye\" him into the\ncotton print gown, arranged the shawl with a professional fold, and\ntied the strings of the rusty bonnet under his chin.\n\n\"You're the very image of her,\" she giggled, \"only I'm sure you never\nlooked half so respectable in all your life before. Now, good-bye,\nToad, and good luck. Go straight down the way you came up; and if any\none says anything to you, as they probably will, being but men, you\ncan chaff back a bit, of course, but remember you're a widow woman,\nquite alone in the world, with a character to lose.\"\n\nWith a quaking heart, but as firm a footstep as he could command, Toad\nset forth cautiously on what seemed to be a most hare-brained and\nhazardous undertaking; but he was soon agreeably surprised to find how\neasy everything was made for him, and a little humbled at the thought\nthat both his popularity, and the sex that seemed to inspire it, were\nreally another's. The washerwoman's squat figure in its familiar\ncotton print seemed a passport for every barred door and grim gateway;\neven when he hesitated, uncertain as to the right turning to take, he\nfound himself helped out of his difficulty by the warder at the next\ngate, anxious to be off to his tea, summoning him to come along sharp\nand not keep him waiting there all night. The chaff and the humourous\nsallies to which he was subjected, and to which, of course, he had to\nprovide prompt and effective reply, formed, indeed, his chief danger;\nfor Toad was an animal with a strong sense of his own dignity, and the\nchaff was mostly (he thought) poor and clumsy, and the humour of the\nsallies entirely lacking. However, he kept his temper, though with\ngreat difficulty, suited his retorts to his company and his supposed\ncharacter, and did his best not to overstep the limits of good taste.\n\nIt seemed hours before he crossed the last courtyard, rejected the\npressing invitations from the last guardroom, and dodged the outspread\narms of the last warder, pleading with simulated passion for just one\nfarewell embrace. But at last he heard the wicket-gate in the great\nouter door click behind him, felt the fresh air of the outer world\nupon his anxious brow, and knew that he was free!\n\nDizzy with the easy success of his daring exploit, he walked quickly\ntowards the lights of the town, not knowing in the least what he\nshould do next, only quite certain of one thing, that he must remove\nhimself as quickly as possible from the neighbourhood where the lady\nhe was forced to represent was so well-known and so popular a\ncharacter.\n\nAs he walked along, considering, his attention was caught by some red\nand green lights a little way off, to one side of the town, and the\nsound of the puffing and snorting of engines and the banging of\nshunted trucks fell on his ear. \"Aha!\" he thought, \"this is a piece of\nluck! A railway station is the thing I want most in the whole world at\nthis moment; and what's more, I needn't go through the town to get it,\nand shan't have to support this humiliating character by repartees\nwhich, though thoroughly effective, do not assist one's sense of\nself-respect.\"\n\nHe made his way to the station accordingly, consulted a time-table,\nand found that a train, bound more or less in the direction of his\nhome, was due to start in half-an-hour. \"More luck!\" said Toad, his\nspirits rising rapidly, and went off to the booking-office to buy his\nticket.\n\nHe gave the name of the station that he knew to be nearest to the\nvillage of which Toad Hall was the principal feature, and mechanically\nput his fingers, in search of the necessary money, where his waistcoat\npocket should have been. But here the cotton gown, which had nobly stood\nby him so far, and which he had basely forgotten, intervened, and\nfrustrated his efforts. In a sort of nightmare he struggled with the\nstrange uncanny thing that seemed to hold his hands, turn all muscular\nstrivings to water, and laugh at him all the time; while other\ntravellers, forming up in a line behind, waited with impatience, making\nsuggestions of more or less value and comments of more or less\nstringency and point. At last--somehow--he never rightly understood\nhow--he burst the barriers, attained the goal, arrived at where all\nwaistcoat pockets are eternally situated, and found--not only no money,\nbut no pocket to hold it, and no waistcoat to hold the pocket!\n\nTo his horror he recollected that he had left both coat and waistcoat\nbehind him in his cell, and with them his pocket-book, money, keys,\nwatch, matches, pencil-case--all that makes life worth living, all\nthat distinguishes the many-pocketed animal, the lord of creation,\nfrom the inferior one-pocketed or no-pocketed productions that hop or\ntrip about permissively, unequipped for the real contest.\n\nIn his misery he made one desperate effort to carry the thing off,\nand, with a return to his fine old manner--a blend of the Squire and\nthe College Don--he said, \"Look here! I find I've left my purse\nbehind. Just give me that ticket, will you, and I'll send the money on\nto-morrow? I'm well-known in these parts.\"\n\nThe clerk stared at him and the rusty black bonnet a moment, and then\nlaughed. \"I should think you were pretty well known in these parts,\"\nhe said, \"if you've tried this game on often. Here, stand away from\nthe window, please, madam; you're obstructing the other passengers!\"\n\nAn old gentleman who had been prodding him in the back for some\nmoments here thrust him away, and, what was worse, addressed him as\nhis good woman, which angered Toad more than anything that had\noccurred that evening.\n\nBaffled and full of despair, he wandered blindly down the platform\nwhere the train was standing, and tears trickled down each side of\nhis nose. It was hard, he thought, to be within sight of safety and\nalmost of home, and to be baulked by the want of a few wretched\nshillings and by the pettifogging mistrustfulness of paid officials.\nVery soon his escape would be discovered, the hunt would be up, he\nwould be caught, reviled, loaded with chains, dragged back again to\nprison and bread-and-water and straw; his guards and penalties would\nbe doubled; and O, what sarcastic remarks the girl would make! What\nwas to be done? He was not swift of foot; his figure was unfortunately\nrecognisable. Could he not squeeze under the seat of a carriage? He\nhad seen this method adopted by schoolboys, when the journey-money\nprovided by thoughtful parents had been diverted to other and better\nends. As he pondered, he found himself opposite the engine, which was\nbeing oiled, wiped, and generally caressed by its affectionate driver,\na burly man with an oil-can in one hand and a lump of cotton-waste in\nthe other.\n\n\"Hullo, mother!\" said the engine-driver, \"what's the trouble? You\ndon't look particularly cheerful.\"\n\n\"O, sir!\" said Toad, crying afresh, \"I am a poor unhappy washerwoman,\nand I've lost all my money, and can't pay for a ticket, and I _must_\nget home to-night somehow, and whatever I am to do I don't know. O\ndear, O dear!\"\n\n\"That's a bad business, indeed,\" said the engine-driver reflectively.\n\"Lost your money--and can't get home--and got some kids, too, waiting\nfor you, I dare say?\"\n\n\"Any amount of 'em,\" sobbed Toad. \"And they'll be hungry--and playing\nwith matches--and upsetting lamps, the little innocents!--and\nquarrelling, and going on generally. O dear, O dear!\"\n\n\"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do,\" said the good engine-driver.\n\"You're a washerwoman to your trade, says you. Very well, that's that.\nAnd I'm an engine-driver, as you well may see, and there's no denying\nit's terribly dirty work. Uses up a power of shirts, it does, till my\nmissus is fair tired of washing of 'em. If you'll wash a few shirts\nfor me when you get home, and send 'em along, I'll give you a ride on\nmy engine. It's against the Company's regulations, but we're not so\nvery particular in these out-of-the-way parts.\"\n\nThe Toad's misery turned into rapture as he eagerly scrambled up into\nthe cab of the engine. Of course, he had never washed a shirt in his\nlife, and couldn't if he tried and, anyhow, he wasn't going to begin;\nbut he thought: \"When I get safely home to Toad Hall, and have money\nagain, and pockets to put it in, I will send the engine-driver enough\nto pay for quite a quantity of washing, and that will be the same\nthing, or better.\"\n\nThe guard waved his welcome flag, the engine-driver whistled in\ncheerful response, and the train moved out of the station. As the\nspeed increased, and the Toad could see on either side of him real\nfields, and trees, and hedges, and cows, and horses, all flying past\nhim, and as he thought how every minute was bringing him nearer to\nToad Hall, and sympathetic friends, and money to chink in his pocket,\nand a soft bed to sleep in, and good things to eat, and praise and\nadmiration at the recital of his adventures and his surpassing\ncleverness, he began to skip up and down and shout and sing snatches\nof song, to the great astonishment of the engine-driver, who had come\nacross washerwomen before, at long intervals, but never one at all\nlike this.\n\nThey had covered many and many a mile, and Toad was already considering\nwhat he would have for supper as soon as he got home, when he noticed\nthat the engine-driver, with a puzzled expression on his face, was\nleaning over the side of the engine and listening hard. Then he saw him\nclimb on to the coals and gaze out over the top of the train; then he\nreturned and said to Toad: \"It's very strange; we're the last train\nrunning in this direction to-night, yet I could be sworn that I heard\nanother following us!\"\n\nToad ceased his frivolous antics at once. He became grave and depressed,\nand a dull pain in the lower part of his spine, communicating itself to\nhis legs, made him want to sit down and try desperately not to think of\nall the possibilities.\n\nBy this time the moon was shining brightly, and the engine-driver,\nsteadying himself on the coal, could command a view of the line behind\nthem for a long distance.\n\nPresently he called out, \"I can see it clearly now! It is an engine,\non our rails, coming along at a great pace! It looks as if we were\nbeing pursued!\"\n\nThe miserable Toad, crouching in the coal-dust, tried hard to think of\nsomething to do, with dismal want of success.\n\n\"They are gaining on us fast!\" cried the engine-driver. \"And the\nengine is crowded with the queerest lot of people! Men like ancient\nwarders, waving halberds; policemen in their helmets, waving\ntruncheons; and shabbily dressed men in pot-hats, obvious and\nunmistakable plain-clothes detectives even at this distance, waving\nrevolvers and walking-sticks; all waving, and all shouting the same\nthing--'Stop, stop, stop!'\"\n\nThen Toad fell on his knees among the coals, and, raising his clasped\npaws in supplication, cried, \"Save me, only save me, dear kind Mr.\nEngine-driver, and I will confess everything! I am not the simple\nwasherwoman I seem to be! I have no children waiting for me, innocent\nor otherwise! I am a toad--the well-known and popular Mr. Toad, a\nlanded proprietor; I have just escaped, by my great daring and\ncleverness, from a loathsome dungeon into which my enemies had flung\nme; and if those fellows on that engine recapture me, it will be\nchains and bread-and-water and straw and misery once more for poor,\nunhappy, innocent Toad!\"\n\nThe engine-driver looked down upon him very sternly, and said, \"Now\ntell the truth; what were you put in prison for?\"\n\n\"It was nothing very much,\" said poor Toad, colouring deeply. \"I only\nborrowed a motor-car while the owners were at lunch; they had no need of\nit at the time. I didn't mean to steal it, really; but people--especially\nmagistrates--take such harsh views of thoughtless and high-spirited\nactions.\"\n\nThe engine-driver looked very grave and said, \"I fear that you have\nbeen indeed a wicked toad, and by rights I ought to give you up to\noffended justice. But you are evidently in sore trouble and distress,\nso I will not desert you. I don't hold with motor-cars, for one thing;\nand I don't hold with being ordered about by policemen when I'm on my\nown engine, for another. And the sight of an animal in tears always\nmakes me feel queer and soft-hearted. So cheer up, Toad! I'll do my\nbest, and we may beat them yet!\"\n\nThey piled on more coals, shovelling furiously; the furnace roared,\nthe sparks flew, the engine leapt and swung, but still their pursuers\nslowly gained. The engine-driver, with a sigh, wiped his brow with a\nhandful of cotton-waste, and said, \"I'm afraid it's no good, Toad. You\nsee, they are running light, and they have the better engine. There's\njust one thing left for us to do, and it's your only chance, so attend\nvery carefully to what I tell you. A short way ahead of us is a long\ntunnel, and on the other side of that the line passes through a thick\nwood. Now, I will put on all the speed I can while we are running\nthrough the tunnel, but the other fellows will slow down a bit,\nnaturally, for fear of an accident. When we are through, I will shut\noff steam and put on brakes as hard as I can, and the moment it's safe\nto do so you must jump and hide in the wood, before they get through\nthe tunnel and see you. Then I will go full speed ahead again, and\nthey can chase me if they like, for as long as they like, and as far\nas they like. Now mind and be ready to jump when I tell you!\"\n\nThey piled on more coals, and the train shot into the tunnel, and the\nengine rushed and roared and rattled, till at last they shot out at\nthe other end into fresh air and the peaceful moonlight, and saw the\nwood lying dark and helpful upon either side of the line. The driver\nshut off steam and put on brakes, the Toad got down on the step, and\nas the train slowed down to almost a walking pace he heard the driver\ncall out, \"Now, jump!\"\n\nToad jumped, rolled down a short embankment, picked himself up unhurt,\nscrambled into the wood and hid.\n\nPeeping out, he saw his train get up speed again and disappear at a\ngreat pace. Then out of the tunnel burst the pursuing engine, roaring\nand whistling, her motley crew waving their various weapons and\nshouting, \"Stop! stop! stop!\" When they were past, the Toad had a\nhearty laugh--for the first time since he was thrown into prison.\n\nBut he soon stopped laughing when he came to consider that it was now\nvery late and dark and cold, and he was in an unknown wood, with no\nmoney and no chance of supper, and still far from friends and home;\nand the dead silence of everything, after the roar and rattle of the\ntrain, was something of a shock. He dared not leave the shelter of the\ntrees, so he struck into the wood, with the idea of leaving the\nrailway as far as possible behind him.\n\nAfter so many weeks within walls, he found the wood strange and\nunfriendly and inclined, he thought, to make fun of him. Night-jars,\nsounding their mechanical rattle, made him think that the wood was\nfull of searching warders, closing in on him. An owl, swooping\nnoiselessly towards him, brushed his shoulder with its wing, making\nhim jump with the horrid certainty that it was a hand; then flitted\noff, moth-like, laughing its low ho! ho! ho! which Toad thought in\nvery poor taste. Once he met a fox, who stopped, looked him up and\ndown in a sarcastic sort of way, and said, \"Hullo, washerwoman! Half a\npair of socks and a pillow-case short this week! Mind it doesn't occur\nagain!\" and swaggered off, sniggering. Toad looked about for a stone\nto throw at him, but could not succeed in finding one, which vexed him\nmore than anything. At last, cold, hungry, and tired out, he sought\nthe shelter of a hollow tree, where with branches and dead leaves he\nmade himself as comfortable a bed as he could, and slept soundly till\nthe morning.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nWAYFARERS ALL\n\n\nThe Water Rat was restless, and he did not exactly know why. To all\nappearance the summer's pomp was still at fullest height, and although\nin the tilled acres green had given way to gold, though rowans were\nreddening, and the woods were dashed here and there with a tawny\nfierceness, yet light and warmth and colour were still present in\nundiminished measure, clean of any chilly premonitions of the passing\nyear. But the constant chorus of the orchards and hedges had shrunk to\na casual evensong from a few yet unwearied performers; the robin was\nbeginning to assert himself once more; and there was a feeling in the\nair of change and departure. The cuckoo, of course, had long been\nsilent; but many another feathered friend, for months a part of the\nfamiliar landscape and its small society, was missing too, and it\nseemed that the ranks thinned steadily day by day. Rat, ever observant\nof all winged movement, saw that it was taking daily a southing\ntendency; and even as he lay in bed at night he thought he could make\nout, passing in the darkness overhead, the beat and quiver of\nimpatient pinions, obedient to the peremptory call.\n\nNature's Grand Hotel has its Season, like the others. As the guests one\nby one pack, pay, and depart, and the seats at the _table-d'hôte_ shrink\npitifully at each succeeding meal; as suites of rooms are closed, carpets\ntaken up, and waiters sent away; those boarders who are staying on, _en\npension_, until the next year's full re-opening, cannot help being\nsomewhat affected by all these flittings and farewells, this eager\ndiscussion of plans, routes, and fresh quarters, this daily shrinkage in\nthe stream of comradeship. One gets unsettled, depressed, and inclined to\nbe querulous. Why this craving for change? Why not stay on quietly here,\nlike us, and be jolly? You don't know this hotel out of the season, and\nwhat fun we have among ourselves, we fellows who remain and see the whole\ninteresting year out. All very true, no doubt, the others always reply;\nwe quite envy you--and some other year perhaps--but just now we have\nengagements--and there's the bus at the door--our time is up! So they\ndepart, with a smile and a nod, and we miss them, and feel resentful. The\nRat was a self-sufficing sort of animal, rooted to the land, and, whoever\nwent, he stayed; still, he could not help noticing what was in the air,\nand feeling some of its influence in his bones.\n\nIt was difficult to settle down to anything seriously, with all this\nflitting going on. Leaving the water-side, where rushes stood thick\nand tall in a stream that was becoming sluggish and low, he wandered\ncountry-wards, crossed a field or two of pasturage already looking\ndusty and parched, and thrust into the great sea of wheat, yellow,\nwavy, and murmurous, full of quiet motion and small whisperings. Here\nhe often loved to wander, through the forest of stiff strong stalks\nthat carried their own golden sky away over his head--a sky that was\nalways dancing, shimmering, softly talking; or swaying strongly to\nthe passing wind and recovering itself with a toss and a merry laugh.\nHere, too, he had many small friends, a society complete in itself,\nleading full and busy lives, but always with a spare moment to gossip,\nand exchange news with a visitor. To-day, however, though they were\ncivil enough, the field-mice and harvest mice seemed pre-occupied.\nMany were digging and tunnelling busily; others, gathered together in\nsmall groups, examined plans and drawings of small flats, stated to be\ndesirable and compact, and situated conveniently near the Stores. Some\nwere hauling out dusty trunks and dress-baskets, others were already\nelbow-deep packing their belongings; while everywhere piles and\nbundles of wheat, oats, barley, beech-mast and nuts, lay about ready\nfor transport.\n\n\"Here's old Ratty!\" they cried as soon as they saw him. \"Come and bear\na hand, Rat, and don't stand about idle!\"\n\n\"What sort of games are you up to?\" said the Water Rat severely. \"You\nknow it isn't time to be thinking of winter quarters yet, by a long\nway!\"\n\n\"O yes, we know that,\" explained a field-mouse rather shamefacedly;\n\"but it's always as well to be in good time, isn't it? We really\n_must_ get all the furniture and baggage and stores moved out of this\nbefore those horrid machines begin clicking round the fields; and\nthen, you know, the best flats get picked up so quickly nowadays, and\nif you're late you have to put up with _anything_; and they want such\na lot of doing up, too, before they're fit to move into. Of course,\nwe're early, we know that; but we're only just making a start.\"\n\n\"O, bother _starts_,\" said the Rat. \"It's a splendid day. Come for a\nrow, or a stroll along the hedges, or a picnic in the woods, or\nsomething.\"\n\n\"Well, I _think_ not _to-day_, thank you,\" replied the field-mouse\nhurriedly. \"Perhaps some _other_ day--when we've more _time_--\"\n\nThe Rat, with a snort of contempt, swung round to go, tripped over a\nhat-box, and fell, with undignified remarks.\n\n\"If people would be more careful,\" said a field-mouse rather stiffly,\n\"and look where they're going, people wouldn't hurt themselves--and\nforget themselves. Mind that hold-all, Rat! You'd better sit down\nsomewhere. In an hour or two we may be more free to attend to you.\"\n\n\"You won't be 'free' as you call it, much this side of Christmas, I\ncan see that,\" retorted the Rat grumpily, as he picked his way out of\nthe field.\n\nHe returned somewhat despondently to his river again--his faithful,\nsteady-going old river, which never packed up, flitted, or went into\nwinter quarters.\n\nIn the osiers which fringed the bank he spied a swallow sitting.\nPresently it was joined by another, and then by a third; and the\nbirds, fidgeting restlessly on their bough, talked together earnestly\nand low.\n\n\"What, _already_,\" said the Rat, strolling up to them. \"What's the\nhurry? I call it simply ridiculous.\"\n\n\"O, we're not off yet, if that's what you mean,\" replied the first\nswallow. \"We're only making plans and arranging things. Talking it\nover, you know--what route we're taking this year, and where we'll\nstop, and so on. That's half the fun!\"\n\n\"Fun?\" said the Rat; \"now that's just what I don't understand. If\nyou've _got_ to leave this pleasant place, and your friends who will\nmiss you, and your snug homes that you've just settled into, why, when\nthe hour strikes I've no doubt you'll go bravely, and face all the\ntrouble and discomfort and change and newness, and make believe that\nyou're not very unhappy. But to want to talk about it, or even think\nabout it, till you really need--\"\n\n\"No, you don't understand, naturally,\" said the second swallow.\n\"First, we feel it stirring within us, a sweet unrest; then back come\nthe recollections one by one, like homing pigeons. They flutter\nthrough our dreams at night, they fly with us in our wheelings and\ncirclings by day. We hunger to inquire of each other, to compare notes\nand assure ourselves that it was all really true, as one by one the\nscents and sounds and names of long-forgotten places come gradually\nback and beckon to us.\"\n\n\"Couldn't you stop on for just this year?\" suggested the Water Rat,\nwistfully. \"We'll all do our best to make you feel at home. You've no\nidea what good times we have here, while you are far away.\"\n\n\"I tried 'stopping on' one year,\" said the third swallow. \"I had grown\nso fond of the place that when the time came I hung back and let the\nothers go on without me. For a few weeks it was all well enough, but\nafterwards, O the weary length of the nights! The shivering, sunless\ndays! The air so clammy and chill, and not an insect in an acre of it!\nNo, it was no good; my courage broke down, and one cold, stormy night\nI took wing, flying well inland on account of the strong easterly\ngales. It was snowing hard as I beat through the passes of the great\nmountains, and I had a stiff fight to win through; but never shall I\nforget the blissful feeling of the hot sun again on my back as I sped\ndown to the lakes that lay so blue and placid below me, and the taste\nof my first fat insect! The past was like a bad dream; the future was\nall happy holiday as I moved southwards week by week, easily, lazily,\nlingering as long as I dared, but always heeding the call! No, I had\nhad my warning; never again did I think of disobedience.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes, the call of the South, of the South!\" twittered the other\ntwo dreamily. \"Its songs, its hues, its radiant air! O, do you\nremember--\" and, forgetting the Rat, they slid into passionate\nreminiscence, while he listened fascinated, and his heart burned\nwithin him. In himself, too, he knew that it was vibrating at last,\nthat chord hitherto dormant and unsuspected. The mere chatter of these\nsouthern-bound birds, their pale and second-hand reports, had yet\npower to awaken this wild new sensation and thrill him through and\nthrough with it; what would one moment of the real thing work in\nhim--one passionate touch of the real southern sun, one waft of the\nauthentic odour? With closed eyes he dared to dream a moment in full\nabandonment, and when he looked again the river seemed steely and\nchill, the green fields grey and lightless. Then his loyal heart\nseemed to cry out on his weaker self for its treachery.\n\n\"Why do you ever come back, then, at all?\" he demanded of the swallows\njealously. \"What do you find to attract you in this poor drab little\ncountry?\"\n\n\"And do you think,\" said the first swallow, \"that the other call is\nnot for us too, in its due season? The call of lush meadow-grass, wet\norchards, warm, insect-haunted ponds, of browsing cattle, of\nhaymaking, and all the farm-buildings clustering round the House of\nthe perfect Eaves?\"\n\n\"Do you suppose,\" asked the second one, \"that you are the only living\nthing that craves with a hungry longing to hear the cuckoo's note\nagain?\"\n\n\"In due time,\" said the third, \"we shall be home-sick once more for\nquiet water-lilies swaying on the surface of an English stream. But\nto-day all that seems pale and thin and very far away. Just now our\nblood dances to other music.\"\n\nThey fell a-twittering among themselves once more, and this time\ntheir intoxicating babble was of violet seas, tawny sands, and\nlizard-haunted walls.\n\nRestlessly the Rat wandered off once more, climbed the slope that rose\ngently from the north bank of the river, and lay looking out towards\nthe great ring of Downs that barred his vision further southwards--his\nsimple horizon hitherto, his Mountains of the Moon, his limit behind\nwhich lay nothing he had cared to see or to know. To-day, to him\ngazing South with a new-born need stirring in his heart, the clear sky\nover their long low outline seemed to pulsate with promise; to-day,\nthe unseen was everything, the unknown the only real fact of life. On\nthis side of the hills was now the real blank, on the other lay the\ncrowded and coloured panorama that his inner eye was seeing so\nclearly. What seas lay beyond, green, leaping, and crested! What\nsun-bathed coasts, along which the white villas glittered against the\nolive woods! What quiet harbours, thronged with gallant shipping bound\nfor purple islands of wine and spice, islands set low in languorous\nwaters!\n\nHe rose and descended river-wards once more; then changed his mind and\nsought the side of the dusty lane. There, lying half-buried in the\nthick, cool under-hedge tangle that bordered it, he could muse on the\nmetalled road and all the wondrous world that it led to; on all the\nwayfarers, too, that might have trodden it, and the fortunes and\nadventures they had gone to seek or found unseeking--out there,\nbeyond--beyond!\n\nFootsteps fell on his ear, and the figure of one that walked somewhat\nwearily came into view; and he saw that it was a Rat, and a very dusty\none. The wayfarer, as he reached him, saluted with a gesture of\ncourtesy that had something foreign about it--hesitated a moment--then\nwith a pleasant smile turned from the track and sat down by his side\nin the cool herbage. He seemed tired, and the Rat let him rest\nunquestioned, understanding something of what was in his thoughts;\nknowing, too, the value all animals attach at times to mere silent\ncompanionship, when the weary muscles slacken and the mind marks time.\n\nThe wayfarer was lean and keen-featured, and somewhat bowed at the\nshoulders; his paws were thin and long, his eyes much wrinkled at the\ncorners, and he wore small gold ear rings in his neatly-set well-shaped\nears. His knitted jersey was of a faded blue, his breeches, patched and\nstained, were based on a blue foundation, and his small belongings that\nhe carried were tied up in a blue cotton handkerchief.\n\nWhen he had rested awhile the stranger sighed, snuffed the air, and\nlooked about him.\n\n\"That was clover, that warm whiff on the breeze,\" he remarked; \"and\nthose are cows we hear cropping the grass behind us and blowing softly\nbetween mouthfuls. There is a sound of distant reapers, and yonder\nrises a blue line of cottage smoke against the woodland. The river\nruns somewhere close by, for I hear the call of a moorhen, and I see\nby your build that you're a freshwater mariner. Everything seems\nasleep, and yet going on all the time. It is a goodly life that you\nlead, friend; no doubt the best in the world, if only you are strong\nenough to lead it!\"\n\n\"Yes, it's _the_ life, the only life, to live,\" responded the Water\nRat dreamily, and without his usual whole-hearted conviction.\n\n\"I did not say exactly that,\" replied the stranger cautiously; \"but no\ndoubt it's the best. I've tried it, and I know. And because I've just\ntried it--six months of it--and know it's the best, here am I,\nfootsore and hungry, tramping away from it, tramping southwards,\nfollowing the old call, back to the old life, _the_ life which is mine\nand which will not let me go.\"\n\n\"Is this, then, yet another of them?\" mused the Rat. \"And where have\nyou just come from?\" he asked. He hardly dared to ask where he was\nbound for; he seemed to know the answer only too well.\n\n\"Nice little farm,\" replied the wayfarer, briefly. \"Upalong in that\ndirection--\" he nodded northwards. \"Never mind about it. I had\neverything I could want--everything I had any right to expect of life,\nand more; and here I am! Glad to be here all the same, though, glad\nto be here! So many miles further on the road, so many hours nearer to\nmy heart's desire!\"\n\nHis shining eyes held fast to the horizon, and he seemed to be\nlistening for some sound that was wanting from that inland acreage,\nvocal as it was with the cheerful music of pasturage and farmyard.\n\n\"You are not one of _us_,\" said the Water Rat, \"nor yet a farmer; nor\neven, I should judge, of this country.\"\n\n\"Right,\" replied the stranger. \"I'm a seafaring rat, I am, and the\nport I originally hail from is Constantinople, though I'm a sort of a\nforeigner there too, in a manner of speaking. You will have heard of\nConstantinople, friend? A fair city and an ancient and glorious one.\nAnd you may have heard too, of Sigurd, King of Norway, and how he\nsailed thither with sixty ships, and how he and his men rode up\nthrough streets all canopied in their honour with purple and gold; and\nhow the Emperor and Empress came down and banqueted with him on\nboard his ship. When Sigurd returned home, many of his Northmen\nremained behind and entered the Emperor's body-guard, and my ancestor,\na Norwegian born, stayed behind too, with the ships that Sigurd gave\nthe Emperor. Seafarers we have ever been, and no wonder; as for me,\nthe city of my birth is no more my home than any pleasant port between\nthere and the London River. I know them all, and they know me. Set me\ndown on any of their quays or foreshores, and I am home again.\"\n\n\"I suppose you go great voyages,\" said the Water Rat with growing\ninterest. \"Months and months out of sight of land, and provisions\nrunning short, and allowanced as to water, and your mind communing\nwith the mighty ocean, and all that sort of thing?\"\n\n\"By no means,\" said the Sea Rat frankly. \"Such a life as you describe\nwould not suit me at all. I'm in the coasting trade, and rarely out of\nsight of land. It's the jolly times on shore that appeal to me, as\nmuch as any seafaring. O, those southern seaports! The smell of them,\nthe riding-lights at night, the glamour!\"\n\n\"Well, perhaps you have chosen the better way,\" said the Water Rat,\nbut rather doubtfully. \"Tell me something of your coasting, then, if\nyou have a mind to, and what sort of harvest an animal of spirit might\nhope to bring home from it to warm his latter days with gallant\nmemories by the fireside; for my life, I confess to you, feels to me\nto-day somewhat narrow and circumscribed.\"\n\n\"My last voyage,\" began the Sea Rat, \"that landed me eventually in\nthis country, bound with high hopes for my inland farm, will serve as\na good example of any of them, and, indeed, as an epitome of my\nhighly-coloured life. Family troubles, as usual, began it. The\ndomestic storm-cone was hoisted, and I shipped myself on board a small\ntrading vessel bound from Constantinople, by classic seas whose every\nwave throbs with a deathless memory, to the Grecian Islands and the\nLevant. Those were golden days and balmy nights! In and out of harbour\nall the time--old friends everywhere--sleeping in some cool temple or\nruined cistern during the heat of the day--feasting and song after\nsundown, under great stars set in a velvet sky! Thence we turned and\ncoasted up the Adriatic, its shores swimming in an atmosphere of\namber, rose, and aquamarine; we lay in wide landlocked harbours, we\nroamed through ancient and noble cities, until at last one morning, as\nthe sun rose royally behind us, we rode into Venice down a path of\ngold. O, Venice is a fine city, wherein a rat can wander at his ease\nand take his pleasure! Or, when weary of wandering, can sit at the\nedge of the Grand Canal at night, feasting with his friends, when the\nair is full of music and the sky full of stars, and the lights flash\nand shimmer on the polished steel prows of the swaying gondolas,\npacked so that you could walk across the canal on them from side to\nside! And then the food--do you like shell-fish? Well, well, we won't\nlinger over that now.\"\n\nHe was silent for a time; and the Water Rat, silent too and enthralled,\nfloated on dream-canals and heard a phantom song pealing high between\nvaporous grey wave-lapped walls.\n\n\"Southwards we sailed again at last,\" continued the Sea Rat, \"coasting\ndown the Italian shore, till finally we made Palermo, and there I\nquitted for a long, happy spell on shore. I never stick too long to\none ship; one gets narrow-minded and prejudiced. Besides, Sicily is\none of my happy hunting-grounds. I know everybody there, and their\nways just suit me. I spent many jolly weeks in the island, staying\nwith friends upcountry. When I grew restless again I took advantage of\na ship that was trading to Sardinia and Corsica; and very glad I was\nto feel the fresh breeze and the sea-spray in my face once more.\"\n\n\"But isn't it very hot and stuffy, down in the--hold, I think you call\nit?\" asked the Water Rat.\n\nThe seafarer looked at him with the suspicion of a wink. \"I'm an old\nhand,\" he remarked with much simplicity. \"The captain's cabin's good\nenough for me.\"\n\n\"It's a hard life, by all accounts,\" murmured the Rat, sunk in deep\nthought.\n\n\"For the crew it is,\" replied the seafarer gravely, again with the\nghost of a wink.\n\n\"From Corsica,\" he went on, \"I made use of a ship that was taking\nwine to the mainland. We made Alassio in the evening, lay to, hauled\nup our wine-casks, and hove them overboard, tied one to the other by a\nlong line. Then the crew took to the boats and rowed shorewards,\nsinging as they went, and drawing after them the long bobbing\nprocession of casks, like a mile of porpoises. On the sands they had\nhorses waiting, which dragged the casks up the steep street of the\nlittle town with a fine rush and clatter and scramble. When the last\ncask was in, we went and refreshed and rested, and sat late into the\nnight, drinking with our friends, and next morning I took to the great\nolive-woods for a spell and a rest. For now I had done with islands\nfor the time, and ports and shipping were plentiful; so I led a lazy\nlife among the peasants, lying and watching them work, or stretched\nhigh on the hillside with the blue Mediterranean far below me. And so\nat length, by easy stages, and partly on foot, partly by sea, to\nMarseilles, and the meeting of old shipmates, and the visiting of\ngreat ocean-bound vessels, and feasting once more. Talk of\nshell-fish! Why, sometimes I dream of the shell-fish of Marseilles,\nand wake up crying!\"\n\n[Illustration: _\"It's a hard life, by all accounts,\" murmured the\nRat_]\n\n\"That reminds me,\" said the polite Water Rat; \"you happened to mention\nthat you were hungry, and I ought to have spoken earlier. Of course,\nyou will stop and take your mid-day meal with me? My hole is close by;\nit is some time past noon, and you are very welcome to whatever there\nis.\"\n\n\"Now I call that kind and brotherly of you,\" said the Sea Rat. \"I was\nindeed hungry when I sat down, and ever since I inadvertently happened\nto mention shell-fish, my pangs have been extreme. But couldn't you\nfetch it along out here? I am none too fond of going under hatches,\nunless I'm obliged to; and then, while we eat, I could tell you more\nconcerning my voyages and the pleasant life I lead--at least, it is\nvery pleasant to me, and by your attention I judge it commends itself\nto you; whereas if we go indoors it is a hundred to one that I shall\npresently fall asleep.\"\n\n\"That is indeed an excellent suggestion,\" said the Water Rat, and\nhurried off home. There he got out the luncheon-basket and packed a\nsimple meal, in which, remembering the stranger's origin and\npreferences, he took care to include a yard of long French bread, a\nsausage out of which the garlic sang, some cheese which lay down and\ncried, and a long-necked straw-covered flask wherein lay bottled\nsunshine shed and garnered on far Southern slopes. Thus laden, he\nreturned with all speed, and blushed for pleasure at the old seaman's\ncommendations of his taste and judgment, as together they unpacked the\nbasket and laid out the contents on the grass by the roadside.\n\nThe Sea Rat, as soon as his hunger was somewhat assuaged, continued\nthe history of his latest voyage, conducting his simple hearer from\nport to port of Spain, landing him at Lisbon, Oporto, and Bordeaux,\nintroducing him to the pleasant harbours of Cornwall and Devon, and so\nup the Channel to that final quayside, where, landing after winds long\ncontrary, storm-driven and weather-beaten, he had caught the first\nmagical hints and heraldings of another Spring, and, fired by these,\nhad sped on a long tramp inland, hungry for the experiment of life on\nsome quiet farmstead, very far from the weary beating of any sea.\n\nSpellbound and quivering with excitement, the Water Rat followed the\nAdventurer league by league, over stormy bays, through crowded\nroadsteads, across harbour bars on a racing tide, up winding rivers\nthat hid their busy little towns round a sudden turn; and left him\nwith a regretful sigh planted at his dull inland farm, about which he\ndesired to hear nothing.\n\nBy this time their meal was over, and the Seafarer, refreshed and\nstrengthened, his voice more vibrant, his eye lit with a brightness that\nseemed caught from some far-away sea-beacon, filled his glass with the\nred and glowing vintage of the South, and, leaning towards the Water Rat,\ncompelled his gaze and held him, body and soul, while he talked. Those\neyes were of the changing foam-streaked grey-green of leaping Northern\nseas; in the glass shone a hot ruby that seemed the very heart of the\nSouth, beating for him who had courage to respond to its pulsation. The\ntwin lights, the shifting grey and the steadfast red, mastered the Water\nRat and held him bound, fascinated, powerless. The quiet world outside\ntheir rays receded far away and ceased to be. And the talk, the wonderful\ntalk flowed on--or was it speech entirely, or did it pass at times into\nsong--chanty of the sailors weighing the dripping anchor, sonorous hum of\nthe shrouds in a tearing North-Easter, ballad of the fisherman hauling\nhis nets at sundown against an apricot sky, chords of guitar and\nmandoline from gondola or caique? Did it change into the cry of the wind,\nplaintive at first, angrily shrill as it freshened, rising to a tearing\nwhistle, sinking to a musical trickle of air from the leech of the\nbellying sail? All these sounds the spellbound listener seemed to hear,\nand with them the hungry complaint of the gulls and the sea-mews, the\nsoft thunder of the breaking wave, the cry of the protesting shingle.\nBack into speech again it passed, and with beating heart he was following\nthe adventures of a dozen seaports, the fights, the escapes, the rallies,\nthe comradeships, the gallant undertakings; or he searched islands for\ntreasure, fished in still lagoons and dozed day-long on warm white sand.\nOf deep-sea fishings he heard tell, and mighty silver gatherings of the\nmile-long net; of sudden perils, noise of breakers on a moonless night,\nor the tall bows of the great liner taking shape overhead through the\nfog; of the merry home-coming, the headland rounded, the harbour lights\nopened out; the groups seen dimly on the quay, the cheery hail, the\nsplash of the hawser; the trudge up the steep little street towards the\ncomforting glow of red-curtained windows.\n\nLastly, in his waking dream it seemed to him that the Adventurer had\nrisen to his feet, but was still speaking, still holding him fast with\nhis sea-grey eyes.\n\n\"And now,\" he was softly saying, \"I take to the road again, holding on\nsouthwestwards for many a long and dusty day; till at last I reach the\nlittle grey sea town I know so well, that clings along one steep side\nof the harbour. There through dark doorways you look down flights of\nstone steps, overhung by great pink tufts of valerian and ending in a\npatch of sparkling blue water. The little boats that lie tethered to\nthe rings and stanchions of the old sea-wall are gaily painted as\nthose I clambered in and out of in my own childhood; the salmon leap\non the flood tide, schools of mackerel flash and play past quay-sides\nand foreshores, and by the windows the great vessels glide, night and\nday, up to their moorings or forth to the open sea. There, sooner or\nlater, the ships of all seafaring nations arrive; and there, at its\ndestined hour, the ship of my choice will let go its anchor. I shall\ntake my time, I shall tarry and bide, till at last the right one lies\nwaiting for me, warped out into mid-stream, loaded low, her bowsprit\npointing down harbour. I shall slip on board, by boat or along hawser;\nand then one morning I shall wake to the song and tramp of the\nsailors, the clink of the capstan, and the rattle of the anchor-chain\ncoming merrily in. We shall break out the jib and the foresail, the\nwhite houses on the harbour side will glide slowly past us as she\ngathers steering-way, and the voyage will have begun! As she forges\ntowards the headland she will clothe herself with canvas; and then,\nonce outside, the sounding slap of great green seas as she heels to\nthe wind, pointing South!\n\n\"And you, you will come too, young brother; for the days pass, and\nnever return, and the South still waits for you. Take the adventure,\nheed the call, now ere the irrevocable moment passes! 'Tis but a\nbanging of the door behind you, a blithesome step forward, and you are\nout of the old life and into the new! Then some day, some day long\nhence, jog home here if you will, when the cup has been drained and\nthe play has been played, and sit down by your quiet river with a\nstore of goodly memories for company. You can easily overtake me on\nthe road, for you are young, and I am ageing and go softly. I will\nlinger, and look back; and at last I will surely see you coming, eager\nand light-hearted, with all the South in your face!\"\n\nThe voice died away and ceased as an insect's tiny trumpet dwindles\nswiftly into silence; and the Water Rat, paralysed and staring, saw at\nlast but a distant speck on the white surface of the road.\n\nMechanically he rose and proceeded to repack the luncheon-basket,\ncarefully and without haste. Mechanically he returned home, gathered\ntogether a few small necessaries and special treasures he was fond of,\nand put them in a satchel; acting with slow deliberation, moving about\nthe room like a sleep-walker; listening ever with parted lips. He\nswung the satchel over his shoulder, carefully selected a stout stick\nfor his wayfaring, and with no haste, but with no hesitation at all,\nhe stepped across the threshold just as the Mole appeared at the door.\n\n\"Why, where are you off to, Ratty?\" asked the Mole in great surprise,\ngrasping him by the arm.\n\n\"Going South, with the rest of them,\" murmured the Rat in a dreamy\nmonotone, never looking at him. \"Seawards first and then on shipboard,\nand so to the shores that are calling me!\"\n\nHe pressed resolutely forward, still without haste, but with dogged\nfixity of purpose; but the Mole, now thoroughly alarmed, placed\nhimself in front of him, and looking into his eyes saw that they\nwere glazed and set and turned a streaked and shifting grey--not his\nfriend's eyes, but the eyes of some other animal! Grappling with him\nstrongly he dragged him inside, threw him down, and held him.\n\nThe Rat struggled desperately for a few moments, and then his strength\nseemed suddenly to leave him, and he lay still and exhausted, with\nclosed eyes, trembling. Presently the Mole assisted him to rise and\nplaced him in a chair, where he sat collapsed and shrunken into\nhimself, his body shaken by a violent shivering, passing in time into\nan hysterical fit of dry sobbing. Mole made the door fast, threw the\nsatchel into a drawer and locked it, and sat down quietly on the table\nby his friend, waiting for the strange seizure to pass. Gradually the\nRat sank into a troubled doze, broken by starts and confused\nmurmurings of things strange and wild and foreign to the unenlightened\nMole; and from that he passed into a deep slumber.\n\nVery anxious in mind, the Mole left him for a time and busied himself\nwith household matters; and it was getting dark when he returned to\nthe parlour and found the Rat where he had left him, wide awake\nindeed, but listless, silent, and dejected. He took one hasty glance\nat his eyes; found them, to his great gratification, clear and dark\nand brown again as before; and then sat down and tried to cheer him up\nand help him to relate what had happened to him.\n\nPoor Ratty did his best, by degrees, to explain things; but how could\nhe put into cold words what had mostly been suggestion? How recall,\nfor another's benefit, the haunting sea voices that had sung to him,\nhow reproduce at second-hand the magic of the Seafarer's hundred\nreminiscences? Even to himself, now the spell was broken and the\nglamour gone, he found it difficult to account for what had seemed,\nsome hours ago, the inevitable and only thing. It is not surprising,\nthen, that he failed to convey to the Mole any clear idea of what he\nhad been through that day.\n\nTo the Mole this much was plain: the fit, or attack, had passed away,\nand had left him sane again, though shaken and cast down by the\nreaction. But he seemed to have lost all interest for the time in the\nthings that went to make up his daily life, as well as in all pleasant\nforecastings of the altered days and doings that the changing season\nwas surely bringing.\n\nCasually, then, and with seeming indifference, the Mole turned his\ntalk to the harvest that was being gathered in, the towering wagons\nand their straining teams, the growing ricks, and the large moon\nrising over bare acres dotted with sheaves. He talked of the reddening\napples around, of the browning nuts, of jams and preserves and the\ndistilling of cordials; till by easy stages such as these he reached\nmidwinter, its hearty joys and its snug home life, and then he became\nsimply lyrical.\n\nBy degrees the Rat began to sit up and to join in. His dull eye\nbrightened, and he lost some of his listening air.\n\nPresently the tactful Mole slipped away and returned with a pencil and\na few half-sheets of paper, which he placed on the table at his\nfriend's elbow.\n\n\"It's quite a long time since you did any poetry,\" he remarked. \"You\nmight have a try at it this evening, instead of--well, brooding over\nthings so much. I've an idea that you'll feel a lot better when you've\ngot something jotted down--if it's only just the rhymes.\"\n\nThe Rat pushed the paper away from him wearily, but the discreet Mole\ntook occasion to leave the room, and when he peeped in again some time\nlater, the Rat was absorbed and deaf to the world; alternately\nscribbling and sucking the top of his pencil. It is true that he\nsucked a good deal more than he scribbled; but it was joy to the Mole\nto know that the cure had at least begun.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nTHE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF TOAD\n\n\nThe front door of the hollow tree faced eastwards, so Toad was called\nat an early hour; partly by the bright sunlight streaming in on him,\npartly by the exceeding coldness of his toes, which made him dream\nthat he was at home in bed in his own handsome room with the Tudor\nwindow, on a cold winter's night, and his bed-clothes had got up,\ngrumbling and protesting they couldn't stand the cold any longer, and\nhad run downstairs to the kitchen fire to warm themselves; and he had\nfollowed, on bare feet, along miles and miles of icy stone-paved\npassages, arguing and beseeching them to be reasonable. He would\nprobably have been aroused much earlier, had he not slept for some\nweeks on straw over stone flags, and almost forgotten the friendly\nfeeling of thick blankets pulled well up round the chin.\n\nSitting up, he rubbed his eyes first and his complaining toes next,\nwondered for a moment where he was, looking round for familiar stone wall\nand little barred window; then, with a leap of the heart, remembered\neverything--his escape, his flight, his pursuit; remembered, first and\nbest thing of all, that he was free!\n\nFree! The word and the thought alone were worth fifty blankets. He was\nwarm from end to end as he thought of the jolly world outside, waiting\neagerly for him to make his triumphal entrance, ready to serve him and\nplay up to him, anxious to help him and to keep him company, as it\nalways had been in days of old before misfortune fell upon him. He\nshook himself and combed the dry leaves out of his hair with his\nfingers; and, his toilet complete, marched forth into the comfortable\nmorning sun, cold but confident, hungry but hopeful, all nervous\nterrors of yesterday dispelled by rest and sleep and frank and\nheartening sunshine.\n\nHe had the world all to himself, that early summer morning. The dewy\nwoodland, as he threaded it, was solitary and still: the green fields\nthat succeeded the trees were his own to do as he liked with; the road\nitself, when he reached it, in that loneliness that was everywhere,\nseemed, like a stray dog, to be looking anxiously for company. Toad,\nhowever, was looking for something that could talk, and tell him\nclearly which way he ought to go. It is all very well, when you have a\nlight heart, and a clear conscience, and money in your pocket, and\nnobody scouring the country for you to drag you off to prison again,\nto follow where the road beckons and points, not caring whither. The\npractical Toad cared very much indeed, and he could have kicked the\nroad for its helpless silence when every minute was of importance to\nhim.\n\nThe reserved rustic road was presently joined by a shy little brother in\nthe shape of a canal, which took its hand and ambled along by its side in\nperfect confidence, but with the same tongue-tied, uncommunicative\nattitude towards strangers. \"Bother them!\" said Toad to himself. \"But,\nanyhow, one thing's clear. They must both be coming _from_ somewhere,\nand going _to_ somewhere. You can't get over that, Toad, my boy!\" So\nhe marched on patiently by the water's edge.\n\nRound a bend in the canal came plodding a solitary horse, stooping\nforward as if in anxious thought. From rope traces attached to his\ncollar stretched a long line, taut, but dipping with his stride, the\nfurther part of it dripping pearly drops. Toad let the horse pass, and\nstood waiting for what the fates were sending him.\n\nWith a pleasant swirl of quiet water at its blunt bow the barge slid\nup alongside of him, its gaily painted gunwale level with the\ntowing-path, its sole occupant a big stout woman wearing a linen\nsun-bonnet, one brawny arm laid along the tiller.\n\n\"A nice morning, ma'am!\" she remarked to Toad, as she drew up level\nwith him.\n\n\"I dare say it is, ma'am!\" responded Toad politely, as he walked along\nthe tow-path abreast of her. \"I dare say it is a nice morning to them\nthat's not in sore trouble, like what I am. Here's my married\ndaughter, she sends off to me post-haste to come to her at once; so\noff I comes, not knowing what may be happening or going to happen, but\nfearing the worst, as you will understand, ma'am, if you're a mother,\ntoo. And I've left my business to look after itself--I'm in the\nwashing and laundering line, you must know, ma'am--and I've left my\nyoung children to look after themselves, and a more mischievous and\ntroublesome set of young imps doesn't exist, ma'am; and I've lost all\nmy money, and lost my way, and as for what may be happening to my\nmarried daughter, why, I don't like to think of it, ma'am!\"\n\n\"Where might your married daughter be living, ma'am?\" asked the\nbarge-woman.\n\n\"She lives near to the river, ma'am,\" replied Toad. \"Close to a fine\nhouse called Toad Hall, that's somewheres hereabouts in these parts.\nPerhaps you may have heard of it.\"\n\n\"Toad Hall? Why, I'm going that way myself,\" replied the barge-woman.\n\"This canal joins the river some miles further on, a little above Toad\nHall; and then it's an easy walk. You come along in the barge with\nme, and I'll give you a lift.\"\n\nShe steered the barge close to the bank, and Toad, with many humble\nand grateful acknowledgments, stepped lightly on board and sat down\nwith great satisfaction. \"Toad's luck again!\" thought he. \"I always\ncome out on top!\"\n\n\"So you're in the washing business, ma'am?\" said the barge-woman\npolitely, as they glided along. \"And a very good business you've got\ntoo, I dare say, if I'm not making too free in saying so.\"\n\n\"Finest business in the whole country,\" said Toad airily. \"All the\ngentry come to me--wouldn't go to any one else if they were paid, they\nknow me so well. You see, I understand my work thoroughly, and attend\nto it all myself. Washing, ironing, clear-starching, making up gents'\nfine shirts for evening wear--everything's done under my own eye!\"\n\n\"But surely you don't _do_ all that work yourself, ma'am?\" asked the\nbarge-woman respectfully.\n\n\"O, I have girls,\" said Toad lightly: \"twenty girls or thereabouts,\nalways at work. But you know what _girls_ are, ma'am! Nasty little\nhussies, that's what _I_ call 'em!\"\n\n\"So do I, too,\" said the barge-woman with great heartiness. \"But I\ndare say you set yours to rights, the idle trollops! And are you\n_very_ fond of washing?\"\n\n\"I love it,\" said Toad. \"I simply dote on it. Never so happy as when\nI've got both arms in the wash-tub. But, then, it comes so easy to me!\nNo trouble at all! A real pleasure, I assure you, ma'am!\"\n\n\"What a bit of luck, meeting you!\" observed the barge-woman,\nthoughtfully. \"A regular piece of good fortune for both of us!\"\n\n\"Why, what do you mean?\" asked Toad, nervously.\n\n\"Well, look at me, now,\" replied the barge-woman. \"_I_ like washing,\ntoo, just the same as you do; and for that matter, whether I like it\nor not I have got to do all my own, naturally, moving about as I do.\nNow my husband, he's such a fellow for shirking his work and leaving\nthe barge to me, that never a moment do I get for seeing to my own\naffairs. By rights he ought to be here now, either steering or\nattending to the horse, though luckily the horse has sense enough to\nattend to himself. Instead of which, he's gone off with the dog, to\nsee if they can't pick up a rabbit for dinner somewhere. Says he'll\ncatch me up at the next lock. Well, that's as may be--I don't trust\nhim, once he gets off with that dog, who's worse than he is. But\nmeantime, how am I to get on with my washing?\"\n\n\"O, never mind about the washing,\" said Toad, not liking the subject.\n\"Try and fix your mind on that rabbit. A nice fat young rabbit, I'll\nbe bound. Got any onions?\"\n\n\"I can't fix my mind on anything but my washing,\" said the barge-woman,\n\"and I wonder you can be talking of rabbits, with such a joyful prospect\nbefore you. There's a heap of things of mine that you'll find in a corner\nof the cabin. If you'll just take one or two of the most necessary\nsort--I won't venture to describe them to a lady like you, but you'll\nrecognise them at a glance--and put them through the wash-tub as we go\nalong, why, it'll be a pleasure to you, as you rightly say, and a real\nhelp to me. You'll find a tub handy, and soap, and a kettle on the stove,\nand a bucket to haul up water from the canal with. Then I shall know\nyou're enjoying yourself, instead of sitting here idle, looking at the\nscenery and yawning your head off.\"\n\n\"Here, you let me steer!\" said Toad, now thoroughly frightened, \"and\nthen you can get on with your washing your own way. I might spoil your\nthings, or not do 'em as you like. I'm more used to gentleman's things\nmyself. It's my special line.\"\n\n\"Let you steer?\" replied the barge-woman, laughing. \"It takes some\npractice to steer a barge properly. Besides, it's dull work, and I\nwant you to be happy. No, you shall do the washing you are so fond of,\nand I'll stick to the steering that I understand. Don't try and\ndeprive me of the pleasure of giving you a treat!\"\n\nToad was fairly cornered. He looked for escape this way and that, saw\nthat he was too far from the bank for a flying leap, and sullenly\nresigned himself to his fate. \"If it comes to that,\" he thought in\ndesperation, \"I suppose any fool can _wash_!\"\n\nHe fetched tub, soap, and other necessaries from the cabin, selected a\nfew garments at random, tried to recollect what he had seen in casual\nglances through laundry windows, and set to.\n\nA long half-hour passed, and every minute of it saw Toad getting\ncrosser and crosser. Nothing that he could do to the things seemed to\nplease them or do them good. He tried coaxing, he tried slapping, he\ntried punching; they smiled back at him out of the tub unconverted,\nhappy in their original sin. Once or twice he looked nervously over\nhis shoulder at the barge-woman, but she appeared to be gazing out in\nfront of her, absorbed in her steering. His back ached badly, and he\nnoticed with dismay that his paws were beginning to get all crinkly.\nNow Toad was very proud of his paws. He muttered under his breath\nwords that should never pass the lips of either washerwomen or Toads;\nand lost the soap, for the fiftieth time.\n\nA burst of laughter made him straighten himself and look round. The\nbarge-woman was leaning back and laughing unrestrainedly, till the\ntears ran down her cheeks.\n\n\"I've been watching you all the time,\" she gasped. \"I thought you must\nbe a humbug all along, from the conceited way you talked. Pretty\nwasherwoman you are! Never washed so much as a dish-clout in your\nlife, I'll lay!\"\n\nToad's temper, which had been simmering viciously for some time, now\nfairly boiled over, and he lost all control of himself.\n\n\"You common, low, _fat_ barge-woman!\" he shouted; \"don't you dare to\ntalk to your betters like that! Washerwoman indeed! I would have you\nto know that I am a Toad, a very well-known, respected, distinguished\nToad! I may be under a bit of a cloud at present, but I will _not_ be\nlaughed at by a barge-woman!\"\n\nThe woman moved nearer to him and peered under his bonnet keenly and\nclosely. \"Why, so you are!\" she cried. \"Well, I never! A horrid,\nnasty, crawly Toad! And in my nice clean barge, too! Now that is a\nthing that I will _not_ have.\"\n\nShe relinquished the tiller for a moment. One big, mottled arm shot\nout and caught Toad by a fore-leg, while the other gripped him fast by\na hind-leg. Then the world turned suddenly upside down, the barge\nseemed to flit lightly across the sky, the wind whistled in his ears,\nand Toad found himself flying through the air, revolving rapidly as he\nwent.\n\nThe water, when he eventually reached it with a loud splash, proved\nquite cold enough for his taste, though its chill was not sufficient\nto quell his proud spirit, or slake the heat of his furious temper. He\nrose to the surface spluttering, and when he had wiped the duck-weed\nout of his eyes the first thing he saw was the fat barge-woman looking\nback at him over the stern of the retreating barge and laughing; and\nhe vowed, as he coughed and choked, to be even with her.\n\nHe struck out for the shore, but the cotton gown greatly impeded his\nefforts, and when at length he touched land he found it hard to climb\nup the steep bank unassisted. He had to take a minute or two's rest to\nrecover his breath; then, gathering his wet skirts well over his arms,\nhe started to run after the barge as fast as his legs would carry him,\nwild with indignation, thirsting for revenge.\n\nThe barge-woman was still laughing when he drew up level with her.\n\"Put yourself through your mangle, washerwoman,\" she called out,\n\"and iron your face and crimp it, and you'll pass for quite a\ndecent-looking Toad!\"\n\nToad never paused to reply. Solid revenge was what he wanted, not\ncheap, windy, verbal triumphs, though he had a thing or two in his\nmind that he would have liked to say. He saw what he wanted ahead of\nhim. Running swiftly on he overtook the horse, unfastened the tow-rope\nand cast off, jumped lightly on the horse's back, and urged it to a\ngallop by kicking it vigorously in the sides. He steered for the open\ncountry, abandoning the tow-path, and swinging his steed down a rutty\nlane. Once he looked back, and saw that the barge had run aground on\nthe other side of the canal, and the barge-woman was gesticulating\nwildly and shouting, \"Stop, stop, stop!\" \"I've heard that song\nbefore,\" said Toad, laughing, as he continued to spur his steed onward\nin its wild career.\n\nThe barge-horse was not capable of any very sustained effort, and its\ngallop soon subsided into a trot, and its trot into an easy walk; but\nToad was quite contented with this, knowing that he, at any rate, was\nmoving, and the barge was not. He had quite recovered his temper, now\nthat he had done something he thought really clever; and he was\nsatisfied to jog along quietly in the sun, steering his horse along\nby-ways and bridle-paths, and trying to forget how very long it was\nsince he had had a square meal, till the canal had been left very far\nbehind him.\n\nHe had travelled some miles, his horse and he, and he was feeling\ndrowsy in the hot sunshine, when the horse stopped, lowered his head,\nand began to nibble the grass; and Toad, waking up, just saved himself\nfrom falling off by an effort. He looked about him and found he was\non a wide common, dotted with patches of gorse and bramble as far as\nhe could see. Near him stood a dingy gipsy caravan, and beside it a\nman was sitting on a bucket turned upside down, very busy smoking and\nstaring into the wide world. A fire of sticks was burning near by, and\nover the fire hung an iron pot, and out of that pot came forth\nbubblings and gurglings, and a vague suggestive steaminess. Also\nsmells--warm, rich, and varied smells--that twined and twisted and\nwreathed themselves at last into one complete, voluptuous, perfect\nsmell that seemed like the very soul of Nature taking form and\nappearing to her children, a true Goddess, a mother of solace and\ncomfort. Toad now knew well that he had not been really hungry before.\nWhat he had felt earlier in the day had been a mere trifling qualm.\nThis was the real thing at last, and no mistake; and it would have to\nbe dealt with speedily, too, or there would be trouble for somebody or\nsomething. He looked the gipsy over carefully, wondering vaguely\nwhether it would be easier to fight him or cajole him. So there he\nsat, and sniffed and sniffed, and looked at the gipsy; and the gipsy\nsat and smoked, and looked at him.\n\nPresently the gipsy took his pipe out of his mouth and remarked in a\ncareless way, \"Want to sell that there horse of yours?\"\n\nToad was completely taken aback. He did not know that gipsies were\nvery fond of horse-dealing, and never missed an opportunity, and he\nhad not reflected that caravans were always on the move and took a\ndeal of drawing. It had not occurred to him to turn the horse into\ncash, but the gipsy's suggestion seemed to smooth the way towards the\ntwo things he wanted so badly--ready money, and a solid breakfast.\n\n\"What?\" he said, \"me sell this beautiful young horse of mine? O, no;\nit's out of the question. Who's going to take the washing home to my\ncustomers every week? Besides, I'm too fond of him, and he simply\ndotes on me.\"\n\n\"Try and love a donkey,\" suggested the gipsy. \"Some people do.\"\n\n\"You don't seem to see,\" continued Toad, \"that this fine horse of mine\nis a cut above you altogether. He's a blood horse, he is, partly; not\nthe part you see, of course--another part. And he's been a Prize\nHackney, too, in his time--that was the time before you knew him, but\nyou can still tell it on him at a glance, if you understand anything\nabout horses. No, it's not to be thought of for a moment. All the\nsame, how much might you be disposed to offer me for this beautiful\nyoung horse of mine?\"\n\nThe gipsy looked the horse over, and then he looked Toad over with\nequal care, and looked at the horse again. \"Shillin' a leg,\" he said\nbriefly, and turned away, continuing to smoke and try to stare the\nwide world out of countenance.\n\n\"A shilling a leg?\" cried Toad. \"If you please, I must take a little\ntime to work that out, and see just what it comes to.\"\n\nHe climbed down off his horse, and left it to graze, and sat down by\nthe gipsy, and did sums on his fingers, and at last he said, \"A\nshilling a leg? Why, that comes to exactly four shillings, and no\nmore. O, no; I could not think of accepting four shillings for this\nbeautiful young horse of mine.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the gipsy, \"I'll tell you what I will do. I'll make it\nfive shillings, and that's three-and-sixpence more than the animal's\nworth. And that's my last word.\"\n\nThen Toad sat and pondered long and deeply. For he was hungry and\nquite penniless, and still some way--he knew not how far--from home,\nand enemies might still be looking for him. To one in such a\nsituation, five shillings may very well appear a large sum of money.\nOn the other hand, it did not seem very much to get for a horse. But\nthen, again, the horse hadn't cost him anything; so whatever he got\nwas all clear profit. At last he said firmly, \"Look here, gipsy! I\ntell you what we will do; and this is _my_ last word. You shall hand\nme over six shillings and sixpence, cash down; and further, in\naddition thereto, you shall give me as much breakfast as I can\npossibly eat, at one sitting of course, out of that iron pot of yours\nthat keeps sending forth such delicious and exciting smells. In\nreturn, I will make over to you my spirited young horse, with all the\nbeautiful harness and trappings that are on him, freely thrown in. If\nthat's not good enough for you, say so, and I'll be getting on. I know\na man near here who's wanted this horse of mine for years.\"\n\nThe gipsy grumbled frightfully, and declared if he did a few more\ndeals of that sort he'd be ruined. But in the end he lugged a dirty\ncanvas bag out of the depths of his trouser pocket, and counted out\nsix shillings and sixpence into Toad's paw. Then he disappeared into\nthe caravan for an instant, and returned with a large iron plate and a\nknife, fork, and spoon. He tilted up the pot, and a glorious stream of\nhot, rich stew gurgled into the plate. It was, indeed, the most\nbeautiful stew in the world, being made of partridges, and pheasants,\nand chickens, and hares, and rabbits, and peahens, and guinea-fowls,\nand one or two other things. Toad took the plate on his lap, almost\ncrying, and stuffed, and stuffed, and stuffed, and kept asking for\nmore, and the gipsy never grudged it him. He thought that he had\nnever eaten so good a breakfast in all his life.\n\nWhen Toad had taken as much stew on board as he thought he could possibly\nhold, he got up and said good-bye to the gipsy, and took an affectionate\nfarewell of the horse; and the gipsy, who knew the riverside well, gave\nhim directions which way to go, and he set forth on his travels again in\nthe best possible spirits. He was, indeed, a very different Toad from the\nanimal of an hour ago. The sun was shining brightly, his wet clothes were\nquite dry again, he had money in his pocket once more, he was nearing\nhome and friends and safety, and, most and best of all, he had had a\nsubstantial meal, hot and nourishing, and felt big, and strong, and\ncareless, and self-confident.\n\nAs he tramped along gaily, he thought of his adventures and escapes,\nand how when things seemed at their worst he had always managed to\nfind a way out; and his pride and conceit began to swell within him.\n\"Ho, ho!\" he said to himself, as he marched along with his chin in the\nair, \"what a clever Toad I am! There is surely no animal equal to me\nfor cleverness in the whole world! My enemies shut me up in prison,\nencircled by sentries, watched night and day by warders; I walk out\nthrough them all, by sheer ability coupled with courage. They pursue\nme with engines, and policemen, and revolvers; I snap my fingers at\nthem, and vanish, laughing, into space. I am, unfortunately, thrown\ninto a canal by a woman fat of body and very evil-minded. What of it?\nI swim ashore, I seize her horse, I ride off in triumph, and I sell\nthe horse for a whole pocketful of money and an excellent breakfast!\nHo, ho! I am The Toad, the handsome, the popular, the successful\nToad!\" He got so puffed up with conceit that he made up a song as he\nwalked in praise of himself, and sang it at the top of his voice,\nthough there was no one to hear it but him. It was, perhaps, the most\nconceited song that any animal ever composed.\n\n        \"The world has held great Heroes,\n           As history-books have showed;\n         But never a name to go down to fame\n           Compared with that of Toad!\n\n        \"The clever men at Oxford\n           Know all that there is to be knowed.\n         But they none of them know one half as much\n           As intelligent Mr. Toad!\n\n        \"The animals sat in the Ark and cried,\n           Their tears in torrents flowed.\n         Who was it said, 'There's land ahead?'\n           Encouraging Mr. Toad!\n\n        \"The army all saluted\n           As they marched along the road.\n         Was it the King? Or Kitchener?\n           No. It was Mr. Toad.\n\n        \"The Queen and her Ladies-in-waiting\n           Sat at the window and sewed.\n         She cried, 'Look! who's that _handsome_ man?'\n           They answered, 'Mr. Toad.'\"\n\nThere was a great deal more of the same sort, but too dreadfully\nconceited to be written down. These are some of the milder verses.\n\nHe sang as he walked, and he walked as he sang, and got more inflated\nevery minute. But his pride was shortly to have a severe fall.\n\nAfter some miles of country lanes he reached the high road, and as he\nturned into it and glanced along its white length, he saw approaching\nhim a speck that turned into a dot and then into a blob, and then into\nsomething very familiar; and a double note of warning, only too well\nknown, fell on his delighted ear.\n\n\"This is something like!\" said the excited Toad. \"This is real life\nagain, this is once more the great world from which I have been missed\nso long! I will hail them, my brothers of the wheel, and pitch them a\nyarn, of the sort that has been so successful hitherto; and they will\ngive me a lift, of course, and then I will talk to them some more;\nand, perhaps, with luck, it may even end in my driving up to Toad Hall\nin a motor-car! That will be one in the eye for Badger!\"\n\nHe stepped confidently out into the road to hail the motor-car, which\ncame along at an easy pace, slowing down as it neared the lane; when\nsuddenly he became very pale, his heart turned to water, his knees\nshook and yielded under him, and he doubled up and collapsed with a\nsickening pain in his interior. And well he might, the unhappy animal;\nfor the approaching car was the very one he had stolen out of the yard\nof the Red Lion Hotel on that fatal day when all his troubles began!\nAnd the people in it were the very same people he had sat and watched\nat luncheon in the coffee-room!\n\nHe sank down in a shabby, miserable heap in the road, murmuring to\nhimself in his despair, \"It's all up! It's all over now! Chains and\npolicemen again! Prison again! Dry bread and water again! O, what a\nfool I have been! What did I want to go strutting about the country\nfor, singing conceited songs, and hailing people in broad day on the\nhigh road, instead of hiding till nightfall and slipping home quietly\nby back ways! O hapless Toad! O ill-fated animal!\"\n\nThe terrible motor-car drew slowly nearer and nearer, till at last he\nheard it stop just short of him. Two gentlemen got out and walked\nround the trembling heap of crumpled misery lying in the road, and one\nof them said, \"O dear! this is very sad! Here is a poor old thing--a\nwasherwoman apparently--who has fainted in the road! Perhaps she is\novercome by the heat, poor creature; or possibly she has not had any\nfood to-day. Let us lift her into the car and take her to the nearest\nvillage, where doubtless she has friends.\"\n\nThey tenderly lifted Toad into the motor-car and propped him up with\nsoft cushions, and proceeded on their way.\n\nWhen Toad heard them talk in so kind and sympathetic a way, and knew\nthat he was not recognised, his courage began to revive, and he\ncautiously opened first one eye and then the other.\n\n\"Look!\" said one of the gentlemen, \"she is better already. The fresh\nair is doing her good. How do you feel now, ma'am?\"\n\n\"Thank you kindly, sir,\" said Toad in a feeble voice, \"I'm feeling a\ngreat deal better!\" \"That's right,\" said the gentleman. \"Now keep\nquite still, and, above all, don't try to talk.\"\n\n\"I won't,\" said Toad. \"I was only thinking, if I might sit on the\nfront seat there, beside the driver, where I could get the fresh air\nfull in my face, I should soon be all right again.\"\n\n\"What a very sensible woman!\" said the gentleman. \"Of course you\nshall.\" So they carefully helped Toad into the front seat beside the\ndriver, and on they went again.\n\nToad was almost himself again by now. He sat up, looked about him, and\ntried to beat down the tremors, the yearnings, the old cravings that\nrose up and beset him and took possession of him entirely.\n\n\"It is fate!\" he said to himself. \"Why strive? why struggle?\" and he\nturned to the driver at his side.\n\n\"Please, Sir,\" he said, \"I wish you would kindly let me try and drive\nthe car for a little. I've been watching you carefully, and it looks\nso easy and so interesting, and I should like to be able to tell my\nfriends that once I had driven a motor-car!\"\n\nThe driver laughed at the proposal, so heartily that the gentleman\ninquired what the matter was. When he heard, he said, to Toad's\ndelight, \"Bravo, ma'am! I like your spirit. Let her have a try, and\nlook after her. She won't do any harm.\"\n\nToad eagerly scrambled into the seat vacated by the driver, took the\nsteering-wheel in his hands, listened with affected humility to the\ninstructions given him, and set the car in motion, but very slowly and\ncarefully at first, for he was determined to be prudent.\n\nThe gentlemen behind clapped their hands and applauded, and Toad heard\nthem saying, \"How well she does it! Fancy a washerwoman driving a car\nas well as that, the first time!\"\n\nToad went a little faster; then faster still, and faster.\n\nHe heard the gentlemen call out warningly, \"Be careful, washerwoman!\"\nAnd this annoyed him, and he began to lose his head.\n\nThe driver tried to interfere, but he pinned him down in his seat with\none elbow, and put on full speed. The rush of air in his face, the hum\nof the engines, and the light jump of the car beneath him intoxicated\nhis weak brain. \"Washerwoman, indeed!\" he shouted recklessly. \"Ho! ho!\nI am the Toad, the motor-car snatcher, the prison-breaker, the Toad\nwho always escapes! Sit still, and you shall know what driving really\nis, for you are in the hands of the famous, the skilful, the entirely\nfearless Toad!\"\n\nWith a cry of horror the whole party rose and flung themselves on him.\n\"Seize him!\" they cried, \"seize the Toad, the wicked animal who stole\nour motor-car! Bind him, chain him, drag him to the nearest police\nstation! Down with the desperate and dangerous Toad!\"\n\nAlas! they should have thought, they ought to have been more prudent,\nthey should have remembered to stop the motor-car somehow before\nplaying any pranks of that sort. With a half-turn of the wheel the\nToad sent the car crashing through the low hedge that ran along the\nroadside. One mighty bound, a violent shock, and the wheels of the car\nwere churning up the thick mud of a horse-pond.\n\nToad found himself flying through the air with the strong upward rush\nand delicate curve of a swallow. He liked the motion, and was just\nbeginning to wonder whether it would go on until he developed wings\nand turned into a Toad-bird, when he landed on his back with a thump,\nin the soft, rich grass of a meadow. Sitting up, he could just see the\nmotor-car in the pond, nearly submerged; the gentlemen and the driver,\nencumbered by their long coats, were floundering helplessly in the\nwater.\n\nHe picked himself up rapidly, and set off running across country as\nhard as he could, scrambling through hedges, jumping ditches, pounding\nacross fields, till he was breathless and weary, and had to settle\ndown into an easy walk. When he had recovered his breath somewhat, and\nwas able to think calmly, he began to giggle, and from giggling he\ntook to laughing, and he laughed till he had to sit down under a\nhedge. \"Ho! ho!\" he cried, in ecstasies of self-admiration. \"Toad\nagain! Toad, as usual, comes out on the top! Who was it got them to\ngive him a lift? Who managed to get on the front seat for the sake of\nfresh air? Who persuaded them into letting him see if he could drive?\nWho landed them all in a horse-pond? Who escaped, flying gaily and\nunscathed through the air, leaving the narrow-minded, grudging, timid\nexcursionists in the mud where they should rightly be? Why, Toad, of\ncourse; clever Toad, great Toad, _good_ Toad!\"\n\nThen he burst into song again, and chanted with uplifted voice--\n\n        \"The motor-car went Poop-poop-poop,\n           As it raced along the road.\n         Who was it steered it into a pond?\n           Ingenious Mr. Toad!\n\nO, how clever I am! How clever, how clever, how very clev--\"\n\nA slight noise at a distance behind him made him turn his head and\nlook. O horror! O misery! O despair!\n\nAbout two fields off, a chauffeur in his leather gaiters and two large\nrural policemen were visible, running towards him as hard as they\ncould go!\n\nPoor Toad sprang to his feet and pelted away again, his heart in his\nmouth. \"O, my!\" he gasped, as he panted along, \"what an _ass_ I am!\nWhat a _conceited_ and heedless ass! Swaggering again! Shouting and\nsinging songs again! Sitting still and gassing again! O my! O my! O\nmy!\"\n\nHe glanced back, and saw to his dismay that they were gaining on him.\nOn he ran desperately, but kept looking back, and saw that they still\ngained steadily. He did his best, but he was a fat animal, and his\nlegs were short, and still they gained. He could hear them close\nbehind him now. Ceasing to heed where he was going, he struggled on\nblindly and wildly, looking back over his shoulder at the now\ntriumphant enemy, when suddenly the earth failed under his feet, he\ngrasped at the air, and, splash! he found himself head over ears in\ndeep water, rapid water, water that bore him along with a force he\ncould not contend with; and he knew that in his blind panic he had run\nstraight into the river!\n\nHe rose to the surface and tried to grasp the reeds and the rushes\nthat grew along the water's edge close under the bank, but the stream\nwas so strong that it tore them out of his hands. \"O my!\" gasped poor\nToad, \"if ever I steal a motor-car again! If ever I sing another\nconceited song\"--then down he went, and came up breathless and\nspluttering. Presently he saw that he was approaching a big dark hole\nin the bank, just above his head, and as the stream bore him past he\nreached up with a paw and caught hold of the edge and held on. Then\nslowly and with difficulty he drew himself up out of the water, till\nat last he was able to rest his elbows on the edge of the hole. There\nhe remained for some minutes, puffing and panting, for he was quite\nexhausted.\n\nAs he sighed and blew and stared before him into the dark hole, some\nbright small thing shone and twinkled in its depths, moving towards\nhim. As it approached, a face grew up gradually around it, and it was\na familiar face!\n\nBrown and small, with whiskers.\n\nGrave and round, with neat ears and silky hair.\n\nIt was the Water Rat!\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\n\"LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS CAME HIS TEARS\"\n\n\nThe Rat put out a neat little brown paw, gripped Toad firmly by the\nscruff of the neck, and gave a great hoist and a pull; and the\nwater-logged Toad came up slowly but surely over the edge of the hole,\ntill at last he stood safe and sound in the hall, streaked with mud\nand weed, to be sure, and with the water streaming off him, but happy\nand high-spirited as of old, now that he found himself once more in\nthe house of a friend, and dodgings and evasions were over, and he\ncould lay aside a disguise that was unworthy of his position and\nwanted such a lot of living up to.\n\n\"O, Ratty!\" he cried. \"I've been through such times since I saw you\nlast, you can't think! Such trials, such sufferings, and all so nobly\nborne! Then such escapes, such disguises, such subterfuges, and all so\ncleverly planned and carried out! Been in prison--got out of it, of\ncourse! Been thrown into a canal--swam ashore! Stole a horse--sold him\nfor a large sum of money! Humbugged everybody--made 'em all do exactly\nwhat I wanted! Oh, I _am_ a smart Toad, and no mistake! What do you\nthink my last exploit was? Just hold on till I tell you--\"\n\n\"Toad,\" said the Water Rat, gravely and firmly, \"you go off upstairs\nat once, and take off that old cotton rag that looks as if it might\nformerly have belonged to some washerwoman, and clean yourself\nthoroughly, and put on some of my clothes, and try and come down\nlooking like a gentleman if you _can_; for a more shabby, bedraggled,\ndisreputable-looking object than you are I never set eyes on in my\nwhole life! Now, stop swaggering and arguing, and be off! I'll have\nsomething to say to you later!\"\n\nToad was at first inclined to stop and do some talking back at him. He\nhad had enough of being ordered about when he was in prison, and here\nwas the thing being begun all over again, apparently; and by a Rat,\ntoo! However, he caught sight of himself in the looking-glass over the\nhat-stand, with the rusty black bonnet perched rakishly over one eye,\nand he changed his mind and went very quickly and humbly upstairs to\nthe Rat's dressing-room. There he had a thorough wash and brush-up,\nchanged his clothes, and stood for a long time before the glass,\ncontemplating himself with pride and pleasure, and thinking what utter\nidiots all the people must have been to have ever mistaken him for one\nmoment for a washerwoman.\n\nBy the time he came down again luncheon was on the table, and very\nglad Toad was to see it, for he had been through some trying\nexperiences and had taken much hard exercise since the excellent\nbreakfast provided for him by the gipsy. While they ate Toad told the\nRat all his adventures, dwelling chiefly on his own cleverness, and\npresence of mind in emergencies, and cunning in tight places; and\nrather making out that he had been having a gay and highly-coloured\nexperience. But the more he talked and boasted, the more grave and\nsilent the Rat became.\n\nWhen at last Toad had talked himself to a standstill, there was\nsilence for a while; and then the Rat said, \"Now, Toady, I don't want\nto give you pain, after all you've been through already; but,\nseriously, don't you see what an awful ass you've been making of\nyourself? On your own admission you have been hand-cuffed, imprisoned,\nstarved, chased, terrified out of your life, insulted, jeered at, and\nignominiously flung into the water--by a woman, too! Where's the\namusement in that? Where does the fun come in? And all because you\nmust needs go and steal a motor-car. You know that you've never had\nanything but trouble from motor-cars from the moment you first set\neyes on one. But if you _will_ be mixed up with them--as you generally\nare, five minutes after you've started--why _steal_ them? Be a\ncripple, if you think it's exciting; be a bankrupt, for a change, if\nyou've set your mind on it: but why choose to be a convict? When are\nyou going to be sensible and think of your friends, and try and be\na credit to them? Do you suppose it's any pleasure to me, for\ninstance, to hear animals saying, as I go about, that I'm the chap\nthat keeps company with gaol-birds?\"\n\n[Illustration: _Dwelling chiefly on his own cleverness, and presence\nof mind in emergencies_]\n\nNow, it was a very comforting point in Toad's character that he was a\nthoroughly good-hearted animal, and never minded being jawed by those\nwho were his real friends. And even when most set upon a thing, he was\nalways able to see the other side of the question. So although, while\nthe Rat was talking so seriously, he kept saying to himself\nmutinously, \"But it _was_ fun, though! Awful fun!\" and making strange\nsuppressed noises inside him, k-i-ck-ck-ck, and poop-p-p, and other\nsounds resembling stifled snorts, or the opening of soda-water\nbottles, yet when the Rat had quite finished, he heaved a deep sigh\nand said, very nicely and humbly, \"Quite right, Ratty! How _sound_ you\nalways are! Yes, I've been a conceited old ass, I can quite see that;\nbut now I'm going to be a good Toad, and not do it any more. As for\nmotor-cars, I've not been at all so keen about them since my last\nducking in that river of yours. The fact is, while I was hanging on to\nthe edge of your hole and getting my breath, I had a sudden idea--a\nreally brilliant idea--connected with motor-boats--there, there! don't\ntake on so, old chap, and stamp, and upset things; it was only an\nidea, and we won't talk any more about it now. We'll have our coffee,\n_and_ a smoke, and a quiet chat, and then I'm going to stroll quietly\ndown to Toad Hall, and get into clothes of my own, and set things\ngoing again on the old lines. I've had enough of adventures. I shall\nlead a quiet, steady, respectable life, pottering about my property,\nand improving it, and doing a little landscape gardening at times.\nThere will always be a bit of dinner for my friends when they come to\nsee me; and I shall keep a pony-chaise to jog about the country in,\njust as I used to in the good old days, before I got restless, and\nwanted to _do_ things.\"\n\n\"Stroll quietly down to Toad Hall?\" cried the Rat, greatly excited.\n\"What are you talking about? Do you mean to say you haven't _heard_?\"\n\n\"Heard what?\" said Toad, turning rather pale. \"Go on, Ratty! Quick!\nDon't spare me! What haven't I heard?\"\n\n\"Do you mean to tell me,\" shouted the Rat, thumping with his little\nfist upon the table, \"that you've heard nothing about the Stoats and\nWeasels?\"\n\n\"What, the Wild Wooders?\" cried Toad, trembling in every limb. \"No,\nnot a word! What have they been doing?\"\n\n\"--And how they've been and taken Toad Hall?\" continued the Rat.\n\nToad leaned his elbows on the table, and his chin on his paws; and a\nlarge tear welled up in each of his eyes, overflowed and splashed on\nthe table, plop! plop!\n\n\"Go on, Ratty,\" he murmured presently; \"tell me all. The worst is\nover. I am an animal again. I can bear it.\"\n\n\"When you--got--into that--that--trouble of yours,\" said the Rat,\nslowly and impressively; \"I mean, when you--disappeared from society\nfor a time, over that misunderstanding about a--a machine, you know--\"\n\nToad merely nodded.\n\n\"Well, it was a good deal talked about down here, naturally,\"\ncontinued the Rat, \"not only along the riverside, but even in the Wild\nWood. Animals took sides, as always happens. The River-bankers stuck\nup for you, and said you had been infamously treated, and there was no\njustice to be had in the land nowadays. But the Wild Wood animals said\nhard things, and served you right, and it was time this sort of thing\nwas stopped. And they got very cocky, and went about saying you were\ndone for this time! You would never come back again, never, never!\"\n\nToad nodded once more, keeping silence.\n\n\"That's the sort of little beasts they are,\" the Rat went on. \"But\nMole and Badger, they stuck out, through thick and thin, that you\nwould come back again soon, somehow. They didn't know exactly how, but\nsomehow!\"\n\nToad began to sit up in his chair again, and to smirk a little.\n\n\"They argued from history,\" continued the Rat. \"They said that no\ncriminal laws had ever been known to prevail against cheek and\nplausibility such as yours, combined with the power of a long purse.\nSo they arranged to move their things in to Toad Hall, and sleep\nthere, and keep it aired, and have it all ready for you when you\nturned up. They didn't guess what was going to happen, of course;\nstill, they had their suspicions of the Wild Wood animals. Now I come\nto the most painful and tragic part of my story. One dark night--it\nwas a _very_ dark night, and blowing hard, too, and raining simply\ncats and dogs--a band of weasels, armed to the teeth, crept silently\nup the carriage-drive to the front entrance. Simultaneously, a body of\ndesperate ferrets, advancing through the kitchen-garden, possessed\nthemselves of the backyard and offices; while a company of skirmishing\nstoats who stuck at nothing occupied the conservatory and the\nbilliard-room, and held the French windows opening on to the lawn.\n\n\"The Mole and the Badger were sitting by the fire in the smoking-room,\ntelling stories and suspecting nothing, for it wasn't a night for any\nanimals to be out in, when those bloodthirsty villains broke down the\ndoors and rushed in upon them from every side. They made the best\nfight they could, but what was the good? They were unarmed, and taken\nby surprise, and what can two animals do against hundreds? They took\nand beat them severely with sticks, those two poor faithful creatures,\nand turned them out into the cold and the wet, with many insulting and\nuncalled-for remarks!\"\n\nHere the unfeeling Toad broke into a snigger, and then pulled himself\ntogether and tried to look particularly solemn.\n\n\"And the Wild Wooders have been living in Toad Hall ever since,\"\ncontinued the Rat; \"and going on simply anyhow! Lying in bed half the\nday, and breakfast at all hours, and the place in such a mess (I'm\ntold) it's not fit to be seen! Eating your grub, and drinking your\ndrink, and making bad jokes about you, and singing vulgar songs,\nabout--well, about prisons and magistrates, and policemen; horrid\npersonal songs, with no humour in them. And they're telling the\ntradespeople and everybody that they've come to stay for good.\"\n\n\"O, have they!\" said Toad, getting up and seizing a stick. \"I'll jolly\nsoon see about that!\"\n\n\"It's no good, Toad!\" called the Rat after him. \"You'd better come\nback and sit down; you'll only get into trouble.\"\n\nBut the Toad was off, and there was no holding him. He marched rapidly\ndown the road, his stick over his shoulder, fuming and muttering to\nhimself in his anger, till he got near his front gate, when suddenly\nthere popped up from behind the palings a long yellow ferret with a\ngun.\n\n\"Who comes there?\" said the ferret sharply.\n\n\"Stuff and nonsense!\" said Toad, very angrily. \"What do you mean by\ntalking like that to me? Come out of that at once or I'll--\"\n\nThe ferret said never a word, but he brought his gun up to his\nshoulder. Toad prudently dropped flat in the road, and _Bang_! a\nbullet whistled over his head.\n\nThe startled Toad scrambled to his feet and scampered off down the\nroad as hard as he could; and as he ran he heard the ferret laughing\nand other horrid thin little laughs taking it up and carrying on the\nsound.\n\nHe went back, very crestfallen, and told the Water Rat.\n\n\"What did I tell you?\" said the Rat. \"It's no good. They've got\nsentries posted, and they are all armed. You must just wait.\"\n\nStill, Toad was not inclined to give in all at once. So he got out the\nboat, and set off rowing up the river to where the garden front of\nToad Hall came down to the water-side.\n\nArriving within sight of his old home, he rested on his oars and\nsurveyed the land cautiously. All seemed very peaceful and deserted\nand quiet. He could see the whole front of Toad Hall, glowing in the\nevening sunshine, the pigeons settling by twos and threes along the\nstraight line of the roof; the garden, a blaze of flowers; the creek\nthat led up to the boat-house, the little wooden bridge that crossed\nit; all tranquil, uninhabited, apparently waiting for his return. He\nwould try the boat-house first, he thought. Very warily he paddled up\nto the mouth of the creek, and was just passing under the bridge,\nwhen ... _Crash_!\n\nA great stone, dropped from above, smashed through the bottom of the\nboat. It filled and sank, and Toad found himself struggling in deep\nwater. Looking up, he saw two stoats leaning over the parapet of the\nbridge and watching him with great glee. \"It will be your head next\ntime, Toady!\" they called out to him. The indignant Toad swam to\nshore, while the stoats laughed and laughed, supporting each other,\nand laughed again, till they nearly had two fits--that is, one fit\neach, of course.\n\nThe Toad retraced his weary way on foot, and related his disappointing\nexperiences to the Water Rat once more.\n\n\"Well, _what_ did I tell you?\" said the Rat very crossly. \"And, now, look\nhere! See what you've been and done! Lost me my boat that I was so fond\nof, that's what you've done! And simply ruined that nice suit of clothes\nthat I lent you! Really, Toad, of all the trying animals--I wonder you\nmanage to keep any friends at all!\"\n\nThe Toad saw at once how wrongly and foolishly he had acted. He\nadmitted his errors and wrong-headedness and made a full apology to\nRat for losing his boat and spoiling his clothes. And he wound up by\nsaying, with that frank self-surrender which always disarmed his\nfriends' criticism and won them back to his side, \"Ratty! I see that I\nhave been a headstrong and a wilful Toad! Henceforth, believe me, I\nwill be humble and submissive, and will take no action without your\nkind advice and full approval!\"\n\n\"If that is really so,\" said the good-natured Rat, already appeased,\n\"then my advice to you is, considering the lateness of the hour, to\nsit down and have your supper, which will be on the table in a minute,\nand be very patient. For I am convinced that we can do nothing until\nwe have seen the Mole and the Badger, and heard their latest news, and\nheld conference and taken their advice in this difficult matter.\"\n\n\"Oh, ah, yes, of course, the Mole and the Badger,\" said Toad,\nlightly. \"What's become of them, the dear fellows? I had forgotten all\nabout them.\"\n\n\"Well may you ask!\" said the Rat reproachfully. \"While you were riding\nabout the country in expensive motor-cars, and galloping proudly on\nblood-horses, and breakfasting on the fat of the land, those two poor\ndevoted animals have been camping out in the open, in every sort of\nweather, living very rough by day and lying very hard by night;\nwatching over your house, patrolling your boundaries, keeping a\nconstant eye on the stoats and the weasels, scheming and planning and\ncontriving how to get your property back for you. You don't deserve to\nhave such true and loyal friends, Toad, you don't, really. Some day,\nwhen it's too late, you'll be sorry you didn't value them more while\nyou had them!\"\n\n\"I'm an ungrateful beast, I know,\" sobbed Toad, shedding bitter tears.\n\"Let me go out and find them, out into the cold, dark night, and share\ntheir hardships, and try and prove by--Hold on a bit! Surely I heard\nthe chink of dishes on a tray! Supper's here at last, hooray! Come\non, Ratty!\"\n\nThe Rat remembered that poor Toad had been on prison fare for a\nconsiderable time, and that large allowances had therefore to be made.\nHe followed him to the table accordingly, and hospitably encouraged\nhim in his gallant efforts to make up for past privations.\n\nThey had just finished their meal and resumed their arm-chairs, when\nthere came a heavy knock at the door.\n\nToad was nervous, but the Rat, nodding mysteriously at him, went\nstraight up to the door and opened it, and in walked Mr. Badger.\n\nHe had all the appearance of one who for some nights had been kept\naway from home and all its little comforts and conveniences. His shoes\nwere covered with mud, and he was looking very rough and touzled; but\nthen he had never been a very smart man, the Badger, at the best of\ntimes. He came solemnly up to Toad, shook him by the paw, and said,\n\"Welcome home, Toad! Alas! what am I saying? Home, indeed! This is a\npoor home-coming. Unhappy Toad!\" Then he turned his back on him, sat\ndown to the table, drew his chair up, and helped himself to a large\nslice of cold pie.\n\nToad was quite alarmed at this very serious and portentous style of\ngreeting; but the Rat whispered to him, \"Never mind; don't take any\nnotice; and don't say anything to him just yet. He's always rather low\nand despondent when he's wanting his victuals. In half an hour's time\nhe'll be quite a different animal.\"\n\nSo they waited in silence, and presently there came another and a\nlighter knock. The Rat, with a nod to Toad, went to the door and\nushered in the Mole, very shabby and unwashed, with bits of hay and\nstraw sticking in his fur.\n\n\"Hooray! Here's old Toad!\" cried the Mole, his face beaming. \"Fancy\nhaving you back again!\" And he began to dance round him. \"We never\ndreamt you would turn up so soon! Why, you must have managed to\nescape, you clever, ingenious, intelligent Toad!\"\n\nThe Rat, alarmed, pulled him by the elbow; but it was too late. Toad\nwas puffing and swelling already.\n\n\"Clever? O, no!\" he said. \"I'm not really clever, according to my\nfriends. I've only broken out of the strongest prison in England,\nthat's all! And captured a railway train and escaped on it, that's\nall! And disguised myself and gone about the country humbugging\neverybody, that's all! O, no! I'm a stupid ass, I am! I'll tell you\none or two of my little adventures, Mole, and you shall judge for\nyourself!\"\n\n\"Well, well,\" said the Mole, moving towards the supper-table;\n\"supposing you talk while I eat. Not a bite since breakfast! O my! O\nmy!\" And he sat down and helped himself liberally to cold beef and\npickles.\n\nToad straddled on the hearth-rug, thrust his paw into his\ntrouser-pocket and pulled out a handful of silver. \"Look at that!\" he\ncried, displaying it. \"That's not so bad, is it, for a few minutes'\nwork? And how do you think I done it, Mole? Horse-dealing! That's how\nI done it!\"\n\n\"Go on, Toad,\" said the Mole, immensely interested.\n\n\"Toad, do be quiet, please!\" said the Rat. \"And don't you egg him on,\nMole, when you know what he is; but please tell us as soon as possible\nwhat the position is, and what's best to be done, now that Toad is\nback at last.\"\n\n\"The position's about as bad as it can be,\" replied the Mole grumpily;\n\"and as for what's to be done, why, blest if I know! The Badger and I\nhave been round and round the place, by night and by day; always the\nsame thing. Sentries posted everywhere, guns poked out at us, stones\nthrown at us; always an animal on the look-out, and when they see us,\nmy! how they do laugh! That's what annoys me most!\"\n\n\"It's a very difficult situation,\" said the Rat, reflecting deeply.\n\"But I think I see now, in the depths of my mind, what Toad really\nought to do. I will tell you. He ought to--\"\n\n\"No, he oughtn't!\" shouted the Mole, with his mouth full. \"Nothing of\nthe sort! You don't understand. What he ought to do is, he ought\nto--\"\n\n\"Well, I shan't do it, anyway!\" cried Toad, getting excited. \"I'm not\ngoing to be ordered about by you fellows! It's my house we're talking\nabout, and I know exactly what to do, and I'll tell you. I'm going\nto--\"\n\nBy this time they were all three talking at once, at the top of their\nvoices, and the noise was simply deafening, when a thin, dry voice\nmade itself heard, saying, \"Be quiet at once, all of you!\" and\ninstantly every one was silent.\n\nIt was the Badger, who, having finished his pie, had turned round in\nhis chair and was looking at them severely. When he saw that he had\nsecured their attention, and that they were evidently waiting for him\nto address them, he turned back to the table again and reached out for\nthe cheese. And so great was the respect commanded by the solid\nqualities of that admirable animal, that not another word was uttered,\nuntil he had quite finished his repast and brushed the crumbs from his\nknees. The Toad fidgeted a good deal, but the Rat held him firmly\ndown.\n\nWhen the Badger had quite done, he got up from his seat and stood\nbefore the fireplace, reflecting deeply. At last he spoke.\n\n\"Toad,\" he said severely. \"You bad, troublesome little animal! Aren't\nyou ashamed of yourself? What do you think your father, my old friend,\nwould have said if he had been here to-night, and had known of all\nyour goings on?\"\n\nToad, who was on the sofa by this time, with his legs up, rolled over\non his face, shaken by sobs of contrition.\n\n\"There, there!\" went on the Badger, more kindly. \"Never mind. Stop\ncrying. We're going to let bygones be bygones, and try and turn over a\nnew leaf. But what the Mole says is quite true. The stoats are on\nguard, at every point, and they make the best sentinels in the world.\nIt's quite useless to think of attacking the place. They're too strong\nfor us.\"\n\n\"Then it's all over,\" sobbed the Toad, crying into the sofa cushions.\n\"I shall go and enlist for a soldier, and never see my dear Toad Hall\nany more!\"\n\n\"Come, cheer up, Toady!\" said the Badger. \"There are more ways of\ngetting back a place than taking it by storm. I haven't said my last\nword yet. Now I'm going to tell you a great secret.\"\n\nToad sat up slowly and dried his eyes. Secrets had an immense\nattraction for him, because he never could keep one, and he enjoyed\nthe sort of unhallowed thrill he experienced when he went and told\nanother animal, after having faithfully promised not to.\n\n\"There--is--an--underground--passage,\" said the Badger, impressively,\n\"that leads from the river-bank, quite near here, right up into the\nmiddle of Toad Hall.\"\n\n\"O, nonsense! Badger,\" said Toad, rather airily. \"You've been\nlistening to some of the yarns they spin in the public-houses about\nhere. I know every inch of Toad Hall, inside and out. Nothing of the\nsort, I do assure you!\"\n\n\"My young friend,\" said the Badger, with great severity, \"your father,\nwho was a worthy animal--a lot worthier than some others I know--was a\nparticular friend of mine, and told me a great deal he wouldn't have\ndreamt of telling you. He discovered that passage--he didn't make it,\nof course; that was done hundreds of years before he ever came to live\nthere--and he repaired it and cleaned it out, because he thought it\nmight come in useful some day, in case of trouble or danger; and he\nshowed it to me. 'Don't let my son know about it,' he said. 'He's a\ngood boy, but very light and volatile in character, and simply cannot\nhold his tongue. If he's ever in a real fix, and it would be of use to\nhim, you may tell him about the secret passage; but not before.'\"\n\nThe other animals looked hard at Toad to see how he would take it.\nToad was inclined to be sulky at first; but he brightened up\nimmediately, like the good fellow he was.\n\n\"Well, well,\" he said; \"perhaps I am a bit of a talker. A popular\nfellow such as I am--my friends get round me--we chaff, we sparkle, we\ntell witty stories--and somehow my tongue gets wagging. I have the\ngift of conversation. I've been told I ought to have a _salon_,\nwhatever that may be. Never mind. Go on, Badger. How's this passage of\nyours going to help us?\"\n\n\"I've found out a thing or two lately,\" continued the Badger. \"I got\nOtter to disguise himself as a sweep and call at the back-door with\nbrushes over his shoulder, asking for a job. There's going to be a big\nbanquet to-morrow night. It's somebody's birthday--the Chief Weasel's,\nI believe--and all the weasels will be gathered together in the\ndining-hall, eating and drinking and laughing and carrying on,\nsuspecting nothing. No guns, no swords, no sticks, no arms of any sort\nwhatever!\"\n\n\"But the sentinels will be posted as usual,\" remarked the Rat.\n\n\"Exactly,\" said the Badger; \"that is my point. The weasels will trust\nentirely to their excellent sentinels. And that is where the passage\ncomes in. That very useful tunnel leads right up under the butler's\npantry, next to the dining-hall!\"\n\n\"Aha! that squeaky board in the butler's pantry!\" said Toad. \"Now I\nunderstand it!\"\n\n\"We shall creep out quietly into the butler's pantry--\" cried the\nMole.\n\n\"--with our pistols and swords and sticks--\" shouted the Rat.\n\n\"--and rush in upon them,\" said the Badger.\n\n\"--and whack 'em, and whack 'em, and whack 'em!\" cried the Toad in\necstasy, running round and round the room, and jumping over the\nchairs.\n\n\"Very well, then,\" said the Badger, resuming his usual dry manner,\n\"our plan is settled, and there's nothing more for you to argue and\nsquabble about. So, as it's getting very late, all of you go right off\nto bed at once. We will make all the necessary arrangements in the\ncourse of the morning to-morrow.\"\n\nToad, of course, went off to bed dutifully with the rest--he knew\nbetter than to refuse--though he was feeling much too excited to\nsleep. But he had had a long day, with many events crowded into it;\nand sheets and blankets were very friendly and comforting things,\nafter plain straw, and not too much of it, spread on the stone floor\nof a draughty cell; and his head had not been many seconds on his\npillow before he was snoring happily. Naturally, he dreamt a good\ndeal; about roads that ran away from him just when he wanted them, and\ncanals that chased him and caught him, and a barge that sailed into\nthe banqueting-hall with his week's washing, just as he was giving a\ndinner-party; and he was alone in the secret passage, pushing onwards,\nbut it twisted and turned round and shook itself, and sat up on its\nend; yet somehow, at the last, he found himself back in Toad Hall,\nsafe and triumphant, with all his friends gathered round about him,\nearnestly assuring him that he really was a clever Toad.\n\nHe slept till a late hour next morning, and by the time he got down he\nfound that the other animals had finished their breakfast some time before.\nThe Mole had slipped off somewhere by himself, without telling any one\nwhere he was going to. The Badger sat in the arm-chair, reading the paper,\nand not concerning himself in the slightest about what was going to happen\nthat very evening. The Rat, on the other hand, was running round the room\nbusily, with his arms full of weapons of every kind, distributing them in\nfour little heaps on the floor, and saying excitedly under his breath, as\nhe ran, \"Here's-a-sword-for-the-Rat, here's-a-sword-for-the-Mole,\nhere's-a-sword-for-the-Toad, here's-a-sword-for-the-Badger!\nHere's-a-pistol-for-the-Rat, here's-a-pistol-for-the-Mole,\nhere's-a-pistol-for-the-Toad, here's-a-pistol-for-the-Badger!\" And so on,\nin a regular, rhythmical way, while the four little heaps gradually grew\nand grew.\n\n\"That's all very well, Rat,\" said the Badger presently, looking at the\nbusy little animal over the edge of his newspaper; \"I'm not blaming\nyou. But just let us once get past the stoats, with those detestable\nguns of theirs, and I assure you we shan't want any swords or pistols.\nWe four, with our sticks, once we're inside the dining-hall, why, we\nshall clear the floor of all the lot of them in five minutes. I'd have\ndone the whole thing by myself, only I didn't want to deprive you\nfellows of the fun!\"\n\n\"It's as well to be on the safe side,\" said the Rat reflectively,\npolishing a pistol-barrel on his sleeve and looking along it.\n\nThe Toad, having finished his breakfast, picked up a stout stick and\nswung it vigorously, belabouring imaginary animals. \"I'll learn 'em\nto steal my house!\" he cried. \"I'll learn 'em, I'll learn 'em!\"\n\n\"Don't say 'learn 'em,' Toad,\" said the Rat, greatly shocked. \"It's\nnot good English.\"\n\n\"What are you always nagging at Toad for?\" inquired the Badger, rather\npeevishly. \"What's the matter with his English? It's the same what I\nuse myself, and if it's good enough for me, it ought to be good enough\nfor you!\"\n\n\"I'm very sorry,\" said the Rat humbly. \"Only I _think_ it ought to be\n'teach 'em,' not 'learn 'em.'\"\n\n\"But we don't _want_ to teach 'em,\" replied the Badger. \"We want to\n_learn_ 'em--learn 'em, learn 'em! And what's more, we're going to\n_do_ it, too!\"\n\n\"Oh, very well, have it your own way,\" said the Rat. He was getting\nrather muddled about it himself, and presently he retired into a\ncorner, where he could be heard muttering, \"Learn 'em, teach 'em,\nteach 'em, learn 'em!\" till the Badger told him rather sharply to\nleave off.\n\nPresently the Mole came tumbling into the room, evidently very pleased\nwith himself. \"I've been having such fun!\" he began at once; \"I've\nbeen getting a rise out of the stoats!\"\n\n\"I hope you've been very careful, Mole?\" said the Rat anxiously.\n\n\"I should hope so, too,\" said the Mole confidently. \"I got the idea\nwhen I went into the kitchen, to see about Toad's breakfast being kept\nhot for him. I found that old washerwoman-dress that he came home in\nyesterday, hanging on a towel-horse before the fire. So I put it on,\nand the bonnet as well, and the shawl, and off I went to Toad Hall, as\nbold as you please. The sentries were on the look-out, of course, with\ntheir guns and their 'Who comes there?' and all the rest of their\nnonsense. 'Good morning, gentlemen!' says I, very respectful. 'Want\nany washing done to-day?' They looked at me very proud and stiff and\nhaughty, and said, 'Go away, washerwoman! We don't do any washing on\nduty.' 'Or any other time?' says I. Ho, ho, ho! Wasn't I _funny_,\nToad?\"\n\n\"Poor, frivolous animal!\" said Toad, very loftily. The fact is, he\nfelt exceedingly jealous of Mole for what he had just done. It was\nexactly what he would have liked to have done himself, if only he had\nthought of it first, and hadn't gone and overslept himself.\n\n\"Some of the stoats turned quite pink,\" continued the Mole, \"and the\nSergeant in charge, he said to me, very short, he said, 'Now run away,\nmy good woman, run away! Don't keep my men idling and talking on their\nposts.' 'Run away?' says I; 'it won't be me that'll be running away,\nin a very short time from now!'\"\n\n\"O _Moly_, how could you?\" said the Rat, dismayed.\n\nThe Badger laid down his paper.\n\n\"I could see them pricking up their ears and looking at each other,\"\nwent on the Mole; \"and the Sergeant said to them, 'Never mind _her_;\nshe doesn't know what she's talking about.'\"\n\n\"'O! don't I?' said I. 'Well, let me tell you this. My daughter, she\nwashes for Mr. Badger, and that'll show you whether I know what I'm\ntalking about; and _you'll_ know pretty soon, too! A hundred\nbloodthirsty badgers, armed with rifles, are going to attack Toad Hall\nthis very night, by way of the paddock. Six boatloads of Rats, with\npistols and cutlasses, will come up the river and effect a landing in\nthe garden; while a picked body of Toads, known as the Die-hards, or\nthe Death-or-Glory Toads, will storm the orchard and carry everything\nbefore them, yelling for vengeance. There won't be much left of you to\nwash, by the time they've done with you, unless you clear out while\nyou have the chance!' Then I ran away, and when I was out of sight I\nhid; and presently I came creeping back along the ditch and took a\npeep at them through the hedge. They were all as nervous and flustered\nas could be, running all ways at once, and falling over each other,\nand every one giving orders to everybody else and not listening; and\nthe Sergeant kept sending off parties of stoats to distant parts of\nthe grounds, and then sending other fellows to fetch 'em back again;\nand I heard them saying to each other, 'That's just like the weasels;\nthey're to stop comfortably in the banqueting-hall, and have feasting\nand toasts and songs and all sorts of fun, while we must stay on guard\nin the cold and the dark, and in the end be cut to pieces by\nbloodthirsty Badgers!'\"\n\n\"Oh, you silly ass, Mole!\" cried Toad, \"You've been and spoilt\neverything!\"\n\n\"Mole,\" said the Badger, in his dry, quiet way, \"I perceive you have\nmore sense in your little finger than some other animals have in the\nwhole of their fat bodies. You have managed excellently, and I begin\nto have great hopes of you. Good Mole! Clever Mole!\"\n\nThe Toad was simply wild with jealousy, more especially as he couldn't\nmake out for the life of him what the Mole had done that was so\nparticularly clever; but, fortunately for him, before he could show\ntemper or expose himself to the Badger's sarcasm, the bell rang for\nluncheon.\n\nIt was a simple but sustaining meal--bacon and broad beans, and a\nmacaroni pudding; and when they had quite done, the Badger settled\nhimself into an arm-chair, and said, \"Well, we've got our work cut\nout for us to-night, and it will probably be pretty late before we're\nquite through with it; so I'm just going to take forty winks, while I\ncan.\" And he drew a handkerchief over his face and was soon snoring.\n\nThe anxious and laborious Rat at once resumed his preparations,\nand started running between his four little heaps, muttering,\n\"Here's-a-belt-for-the-Rat, here's-a-belt-for-the-Mole,\nhere's-a-belt-for-the-Toad, here's-a-belt-for-the-Badger!\" and so on,\nwith every fresh accoutrement he produced, to which there seemed\nreally no end; so the Mole drew his arm through Toad's, led him out\ninto the open air, shoved him into a wicker chair, and made him tell\nhim all his adventures from beginning to end, which Toad was only too\nwilling to do. The Mole was a good listener, and Toad, with no one to\ncheck his statements or to criticise in an unfriendly spirit, rather\nlet himself go. Indeed, much that he related belonged more properly to\nthe category of what-might-have-happened-had-I-only-thought-of-it-in-\ntime-instead-of-ten-minutes-afterwards. Those are always the best and\nthe raciest adventures; and why should they not be truly ours, as much\nas the somewhat inadequate things that really come off?\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nTHE RETURN OF ULYSSES\n\n\nWhen it began to grow dark, the Rat, with an air of excitement and\nmystery, summoned them back into the parlour, stood each of them up\nalongside of his little heap, and proceeded to dress them up for the\ncoming expedition. He was very earnest and thorough-going about it,\nand the affair took quite a long time. First, there was a belt to go\nround each animal, and then a sword to be stuck into each belt, and\nthen a cutlass on the other side to balance it. Then a pair of\npistols, a policeman's truncheon, several sets of handcuffs, some\nbandages and sticking-plaster, and a flask and a sandwich-case. The\nBadger laughed good-humouredly and said, \"All right, Ratty! It amuses\nyou and it doesn't hurt me. I'm going to do all I've got to do with\nthis here stick.\" But the Rat only said, \"_Please_, Badger. You know\nI shouldn't like you to blame me afterwards and say I had forgotten\n_anything_!\"\n\nWhen all was quite ready, the Badger took a dark lantern in one paw,\ngrasped his great stick with the other, and said, \"Now then, follow\nme! Mole first, 'cos I'm very pleased with him; Rat next; Toad last.\nAnd look here, Toady! Don't you chatter so much as usual, or you'll be\nsent back, as sure as fate!\"\n\nThe Toad was so anxious not to be left out that he took up the\ninferior position assigned to him without a murmur, and the animals\nset off. The Badger led them along by the river for a little way, and\nthen suddenly swung himself over the edge into a hole in the river\nbank, a little above the water. The Mole and the Rat followed\nsilently, swinging themselves successfully into the hole as they had\nseen the Badger do; but when it came to Toad's turn, of course he\nmanaged to slip and fall into the water with a loud splash and a\nsqueal of alarm. He was hauled out by his friends, rubbed down and\nwrung out hastily, comforted, and set on his legs; but the Badger was\nseriously angry, and told him that the very next time he made a\nfool of himself he would most certainly be left behind.\n\n[Illustration: _The Badger said, \"Now then, follow me!\"_]\n\nSo at last they were in the secret passage, and the cutting-out\nexpedition had really begun!\n\nIt was cold, and dark, and damp, and low, and narrow, and poor Toad\nbegan to shiver, partly from dread of what might be before him, partly\nbecause he was wet through. The lantern was far ahead, and he could\nnot help lagging behind a little in the darkness. Then he heard the\nRat call out warningly, \"_Come_ on, Toad!\" and a terror seized him of\nbeing left behind, alone in the darkness, and he \"came on\" with such a\nrush that he upset the Rat into the Mole, and the Mole into the\nBadger, and for a moment all was confusion. The Badger thought they\nwere being attacked from behind, and, as there was no room to use a\nstick or a cutlass, drew a pistol, and was on the point of putting a\nbullet into Toad. When he found out what had really happened he was\nvery angry indeed, and said, \"Now this time that tiresome Toad _shall_\nbe left behind!\"\n\nBut Toad whimpered, and the other two promised that they would be\nanswerable for his good conduct, and at last the Badger was pacified,\nand the procession moved on; only this time the Rat brought up the\nrear, with a firm grip on the shoulder of Toad.\n\nSo they groped and shuffled along, with their ears pricked up and\ntheir paws on their pistols, till at last the Badger said, \"We ought\nby now to be pretty nearly under the Hall.\"\n\nThen suddenly they heard, far away as it might be, and yet apparently\nnearly over their heads, a confused murmur of sound, as if people were\nshouting and cheering and stamping on the floor and hammering on\ntables. The Toad's nervous terrors all returned, but the Badger only\nremarked placidly, \"They _are_ going it, the weasels!\"\n\nThe passage now began to slope upwards; they groped onward a little\nfurther, and then the noise broke out again, quite distinct this time,\nand very close above them. \"Ooo-ray-oo-ray-oo-ray-ooray!\" they heard,\nand the stamping of little feet on the floor, and the clinking of\nglasses as little fists pounded on the table. \"_What_ a time they're\nhaving!\" said the Badger. \"Come on!\" They hurried along the passage\ntill it came to a full stop, and they found themselves standing under\nthe trap-door that led up into the butler's pantry.\n\nSuch a tremendous noise was going on in the banqueting-hall that there\nwas little danger of their being overheard. The Badger said, \"Now,\nboys, all together!\" and the four of them put their shoulders to the\ntrap-door and heaved it back. Hoisting each other up, they found\nthemselves standing in the pantry, with only a door between them and\nthe banqueting-hall, where their unconscious enemies were carousing.\n\nThe noise, as they emerged from the passage, was simply deafening. At\nlast, as the cheering and hammering slowly subsided, a voice could be\nmade out saying, \"Well, I do not propose to detain you much\nlonger\"--(great applause)--\"but before I resume my seat\"--(renewed\ncheering)--\"I should like to say one word about our kind host, Mr.\nToad. We all know Toad!\"--(great laughter)--\"_Good_ Toad, _modest_\nToad, _honest_ Toad!\" (shrieks of merriment).\n\n\"Only just let me get at him!\" muttered Toad, grinding his teeth.\n\n\"Hold hard a minute!\" said the Badger, restraining him with\ndifficulty. \"Get ready, all of you!\"\n\n\"--Let me sing you a little song,\" went on the voice, \"which I have\ncomposed on the subject of Toad\"--(prolonged applause).\n\nThen the Chief Weasel--for it was he--began in a high, squeaky voice--\n\n        \"Toad he went a-pleasuring\n         Gaily down the street--\"\n\nThe Badger drew himself up, took a firm grip of his stick with both\npaws, glanced round at his comrades, and cried--\n\n\"The hour is come! Follow me!\"\n\nAnd flung the door open wide.\n\nMy!\n\nWhat a squealing and a squeaking and a screeching filled the air!\n\nWell might the terrified weasels dive under the tables and spring\nmadly up at the windows! Well might the ferrets rush wildly for the\nfireplace and get hopelessly jammed in the chimney! Well might tables\nand chairs be upset, and glass and china be sent crashing on the\nfloor, in the panic of that terrible moment when the four Heroes\nstrode wrathfully into the room! The mighty Badger, his whiskers\nbristling, his great cudgel whistling through the air; Mole, black and\ngrim, brandishing his stick and shouting his awful war-cry, \"A Mole! A\nMole!\" Rat, desperate and determined, his belt bulging with weapons of\nevery age and every variety; Toad, frenzied with excitement and\ninjured pride, swollen to twice his ordinary size, leaping into the\nair and emitting Toad-whoops that chilled them to the marrow! \"Toad he\nwent a-pleasuring!\" he yelled. \"_I'll_ pleasure 'em!\" and he went\nstraight for the Chief Weasel. They were but four in all, but to the\npanic-stricken weasels the hall seemed full of monstrous animals,\ngrey, black, brown and yellow, whooping and flourishing enormous\ncudgels; and they broke and fled with squeals of terror and dismay,\nthis way and that, through the windows, up the chimney, anywhere to\nget out of reach of those terrible sticks.\n\nThe affair was soon over. Up and down, the whole length of the hall,\nstrode the four Friends, whacking with their sticks at every head that\nshowed itself; and in five minutes the room was cleared. Through the\nbroken windows the shrieks of terrified weasels escaping across the\nlawn were borne faintly to their ears; on the floor lay prostrate some\ndozen or so of the enemy, on whom the Mole was busily engaged in\nfitting handcuffs. The Badger, resting from his labours, leant on his\nstick and wiped his honest brow.\n\n\"Mole,\" he said, \"you're the best of fellows! Just cut along outside\nand look after those stoat-sentries of yours, and see what they're\ndoing. I've an idea that, thanks to you, we shan't have much trouble\nfrom _them_ to-night!\"\n\nThe Mole vanished promptly through a window; and the Badger bade the\nother two set a table on its legs again, pick up knives and forks and\nplates and glasses from the _débris_ on the floor, and see if they\ncould find materials for a supper. \"I want some grub, I do,\" he said,\nin that rather common way he had of speaking. \"Stir your stumps, Toad,\nand look lively! We've got your house back for you, and you don't\noffer us so much as a sandwich.\"\n\nToad felt rather hurt that the Badger didn't say pleasant things to\nhim, as he had to the Mole, and tell him what a fine fellow he was,\nand how splendidly he had fought; for he was rather particularly\npleased with himself and the way he had gone for the Chief Weasel and\nsent him flying across the table with one blow of his stick. But he\nbustled about, and so did the Rat, and soon they found some guava\njelly in a glass dish, and a cold chicken, a tongue that had hardly\nbeen touched, some trifle, and quite a lot of lobster salad; and in\nthe pantry they came upon a basketful of French rolls and any quantity\nof cheese, butter, and celery. They were just about to sit down when\nthe Mole clambered in through the window, chuckling, with an armful of\nrifles.\n\n\"It's all over,\" he reported. \"From what I can make out, as soon as\nthe stoats, who were very nervous and jumpy already, heard the shrieks\nand the yells and the uproar inside the hall, some of them threw down\ntheir rifles and fled. The others stood fast for a bit, but when the\nweasels came rushing out upon them they thought they were betrayed;\nand the stoats grappled with the weasels, and the weasels fought to\nget away, and they wrestled and wriggled and punched each other, and\nrolled over and over, till most of 'em rolled into the river! They've\nall disappeared by now, one way or another; and I've got their rifles.\nSo _that's_ all right!\"\n\n\"Excellent and deserving animal!\" said the Badger, his mouth full of\nchicken and trifle. \"Now, there's just one more thing I want you to\ndo, Mole, before you sit down to your supper along of us; and I\nwouldn't trouble you only I know I can trust you to see a thing done,\nand I wish I could say the same of every one I know. I'd send Rat, if\nhe wasn't a poet. I want you to take those fellows on the floor there\nupstairs with you, and have some bedrooms cleaned out and tidied up\nand made really comfortable. See that they sweep _under_ the beds, and\nput clean sheets and pillow-cases on, and turn down one corner of the\nbed-clothes, just as you know it ought to be done; and have a can of\nhot water, and clean towels, and fresh cakes of soap, put in each\nroom. And then you can give them a licking a-piece, if it's any\nsatisfaction to you, and put them out by the back-door, and we shan't\nsee any more of _them_, I fancy. And then come along and have some of\nthis cold tongue. It's first rate. I'm very pleased with you, Mole!\"\n\nThe good-natured Mole picked up a stick, formed his prisoners up in a\nline on the floor, gave them the order \"Quick march!\" and led his\nsquad off to the upper floor. After a time, he appeared again,\nsmiling, and said that every room was ready and as clean as a new pin.\n\"And I didn't have to lick them, either,\" he added. \"I thought, on the\nwhole, they had had licking enough for one night, and the weasels,\nwhen I put the point to them, quite agreed with me, and said they\nwouldn't think of troubling me. They were very penitent, and said\nthey were extremely sorry for what they had done, but it was all the\nfault of the Chief Weasel and the stoats, and if ever they could do\nanything for us at any time to make up, we had only got to mention it.\nSo I gave them a roll a-piece, and let them out at the back, and off\nthey ran, as hard as they could!\"\n\nThen the Mole pulled his chair up to the table, and pitched into the\ncold tongue; and Toad, like the gentleman he was, put all his jealousy\nfrom him, and said heartily, \"Thank you kindly, dear Mole, for all\nyour pains and trouble to-night, and especially for your cleverness\nthis morning!\" The Badger was pleased at that, and said, \"There spoke\nmy brave Toad!\" So they finished their supper in great joy and\ncontentment, and presently retired to rest between clean sheets, safe\nin Toad's ancestral home, won back by matchless valour, consummate\nstrategy, and a proper handling of sticks.\n\nThe following morning, Toad, who had overslept himself as usual, came\ndown to breakfast disgracefully late, and found on the table a\ncertain quantity of egg-shells, some fragments of cold and leathery\ntoast, a coffee-pot three-fourths empty, and really very little else;\nwhich did not tend to improve his temper, considering that, after all,\nit was his own house. Through the French windows of the breakfast-room\nhe could see the Mole and the Water Rat sitting in wicker chairs out\non the lawn, evidently telling each other stories; roaring with\nlaughter and kicking their short legs up in the air. The Badger, who\nwas in an arm-chair and deep in the morning paper, merely looked up\nand nodded when Toad entered the room. But Toad knew his man, so he\nsat down and made the best breakfast he could, merely observing to\nhimself that he would get square with the others sooner or later. When\nhe had nearly finished, the Badger looked up and remarked rather\nshortly: \"I'm sorry, Toad, but I'm afraid there's a heavy morning's\nwork in front of you. You see, we really ought to have a Banquet at\nonce, to celebrate this affair. It's expected of you--in fact, it's\nthe rule.\"\n\n\"O, all right!\" said the Toad, readily. \"Anything to oblige. Though\nwhy on earth you should want to have a Banquet in the morning I cannot\nunderstand. But you know I do not live to please myself, but merely to\nfind out what my friends want, and then try and arrange it for 'em,\nyou dear old Badger!\"\n\n\"Don't pretend to be stupider than you really are,\" replied the\nBadger, crossly; \"and don't chuckle and splutter in your coffee while\nyou're talking; it's not manners. What I mean is, the Banquet will be\nat night, of course, but the invitations will have to be written and\ngot off at once, and you've got to write 'em. Now sit down at that\ntable--there's stacks of letter-paper on it, with 'Toad Hall' at the\ntop in blue and gold--and write invitations to all our friends, and if\nyou stick to it we shall get them out before luncheon. And _I'll_ bear\na hand, too, and take my share of the burden. _I'll_ order the\nBanquet.\"\n\n\"What!\" cried Toad, dismayed. \"Me stop indoors and write a lot of\nrotten letters on a jolly morning like this, when I want to go around\nmy property and set everything and everybody to rights, and swagger\nabout and enjoy myself! Certainly not! I'll be--I'll see you--Stop a\nminute, though! Why, of course, dear Badger! What is my pleasure or\nconvenience compared with that of others! You wish it done, and it\nshall be done. Go, Badger, order the Banquet, order what you like;\nthen join our young friends outside in their innocent mirth, oblivious\nof me and my cares and toils. I sacrifice this fair morning on the\naltar of duty and friendship!\"\n\nThe Badger looked at him very suspiciously, but Toad's frank, open\ncountenance made it difficult to suggest any unworthy motive in this\nchange of attitude. He quitted the room, accordingly, in the direction\nof the kitchen, and as soon as the door had closed behind him, Toad\nhurried to the writing-table. A fine idea had occurred to him while he\nwas talking. He _would_ write the invitations; and he would take care\nto mention the leading part he had taken in the fight, and how he had\nlaid the Chief Weasel flat; and he would hint at his adventures, and\nwhat a career of triumph he had to tell about; and on the fly-leaf he\nwould set out a sort of a programme of entertainment for the\nevening--something like this, as he sketched it out in his head:--\n\n        SPEECH                                      BY TOAD.\n            (There will be other speeches by TOAD during\n                         the evening.)\n\n        ADDRESS                                     BY TOAD.\n        SYNOPSIS--Our Prison System--the Waterways of Old\n        England--Horse-dealing, and how to deal--Property,\n        its rights and its duties--Back to the Land--A\n        Typical English Squire.\n\n        SONG                                        BY TOAD.\n                   (_Composed by himself._)\n\n        OTHER COMPOSITIONS                          BY TOAD\n                 will be sung in the course of the\n                 evening by the           COMPOSER.\n\nThe idea pleased him mightily, and he worked very hard and got all the\nletters finished by noon, at which hour it was reported to him that\nthere was a small and rather bedraggled weasel at the door, inquiring\ntimidly whether he could be of any service to the gentleman. Toad\nswaggered out and found it was one of the prisoners of the previous\nevening, very respectful and anxious to please. He patted him on the\nhead, shoved the bundle of invitations into his paw, and told him to\ncut along quick and deliver them as fast as he could, and if he liked\nto come back again in the evening, perhaps there might be a shilling\nfor him, or, again, perhaps there mightn't; and the poor weasel seemed\nreally quite grateful, and hurried off eagerly to do his mission.\n\nWhen the other animals came back to luncheon, very boisterous and\nbreezy after a morning on the river, the Mole, whose conscience had\nbeen pricking him, looked doubtfully at Toad, expecting to find him\nsulky or depressed. Instead, he was so uppish and inflated that the\nMole began to suspect something; while the Rat and the Badger\nexchanged significant glances.\n\nAs soon as the meal was over, Toad thrust his paws deep into his\ntrouser-pockets, remarked casually, \"Well, look after yourselves, you\nfellows! Ask for anything you want!\" and was swaggering off in the\ndirection of the garden, where he wanted to think out an idea or two\nfor his coming speeches, when the Rat caught him by the arm.\n\nToad rather suspected what he was after, and did his best to get away;\nbut when the Badger took him firmly by the other arm he began to see\nthat the game was up. The two animals conducted him between them into\nthe small smoking-room that opened out of the entrance-hall, shut the\ndoor, and put him into a chair. Then they both stood in front of him,\nwhile Toad sat silent and regarded them with much suspicion and\nill-humour.\n\n\"Now, look here, Toad,\" said the Rat. \"It's about this Banquet, and\nvery sorry I am to have to speak to you like this. But we want you to\nunderstand clearly, once and for all, that there are going to be no\nspeeches and no songs. Try and grasp the fact that on this occasion\nwe're not arguing with you; we're just telling you.\"\n\nToad saw that he was trapped. They understood him, they saw through\nhim, they had got ahead of him. His pleasant dream was shattered.\n\n\"Mayn't I sing them just one _little_ song?\" he pleaded piteously.\n\n\"No, not _one_ little song,\" replied the Rat firmly, though his heart\nbled as he noticed the trembling lip of the poor disappointed Toad.\n\"It's no good, Toady; you know well that your songs are all conceit\nand boasting and vanity; and your speeches are all self-praise\nand--and--well, and gross exaggeration and--and--\"\n\n\"And gas,\" put in the Badger, in his common way.\n\n\"It's for your own good, Toady,\" went on the Rat. \"You know you _must_\nturn over a new leaf sooner or later, and now seems a splendid time to\nbegin; a sort of turning-point in your career. Please don't think that\nsaying all this doesn't hurt me more than it hurts you.\"\n\nToad remained a long while plunged in thought. At last he raised his\nhead, and the traces of strong emotion were visible on his features.\n\"You have conquered, my friends,\" he said in broken accents. \"It was,\nto be sure, but a small thing that I asked--merely leave to blossom\nand expand for yet one more evening, to let myself go and hear the\ntumultuous applause that always seems to me--somehow--to bring out my\nbest qualities. However, you are right, I know, and I am wrong.\nHenceforth I will be a very different Toad. My friends, you shall\nnever have occasion to blush for me again. But, O dear, O dear, this\nis a hard world!\"\n\nAnd, pressing his handkerchief to his face, he left the room, with\nfaltering footsteps.\n\n\"Badger,\" said the Rat, \"I feel like a brute; I wonder what _you_ feel\nlike?\"\n\n\"O, I know, I know,\" said the Badger gloomily. \"But the thing had to\nbe done. This good fellow has got to live here, and hold his own, and\nbe respected. Would you have him a common laughing-stock, mocked and\njeered at by stoats and weasels?\"\n\n\"Of course not,\" said the Rat. \"And, talking of weasels, it's lucky we\ncame upon that little weasel, just as he was setting out with Toad's\ninvitations. I suspected something from what you told me, and had a\nlook at one or two; they were simply disgraceful. I confiscated the\nlot, and the good Mole is now sitting in the blue _boudoir_, filling\nup plain, simple invitation cards.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAt last the hour for the banquet began to draw near, and Toad, who on\nleaving the others had retired to his bedroom, was still sitting\nthere, melancholy and thoughtful. His brow resting on his paw, he\npondered long and deeply. Gradually his countenance cleared, and he\nbegan to smile long, slow smiles. Then he took to giggling in a shy,\nself-conscious manner. At last he got up, locked the door, drew the\ncurtains across the windows, collected all the chairs in the room and\narranged them in a semicircle, and took up his position in front of\nthem, swelling visibly. Then he bowed, coughed twice, and, letting\nhimself go, with uplifted voice he sang, to the enraptured audience\nthat his imagination so clearly saw:\n\n                TOAD'S LAST LITTLE SONG\n\n        The Toad--came--home!\n        There was panic in the parlours and howling in the halls,\n        There was crying in the cow-sheds and shrieking in the stalls,\n        When the Toad--came--home!\n\n        When the Toad--came--home!\n        There was smashing in of window and crashing in of door,\n        There was chivvying of weasels that fainted on the floor,\n        When the Toad--came--home!\n\n        Bang! go the drums!\n        The trumpeters are tooting and the soldiers are saluting,\n        And the cannon they are shooting and the motor-cars are hooting,\n        As the--Hero--comes!\n\n        Shout--Hoo-ray!\n        And let each one of the crowd try and shout it very loud,\n        In honour of an animal of whom you're justly proud,\n        For it's Toad's--great--day!\n\nHe sang this very loud, with great unction and expression; and when he\nhad done, he sang it all over again.\n\nThen he heaved a deep sigh; a long, long, long sigh.\n\nThen he dipped his hairbrush in the water-jug, parted his hair in the\nmiddle, and plastered it down very straight and sleek on each side of\nhis face; and, unlocking the door, went quietly down the stairs to\ngreet his guests, who he knew must be assembling in the drawing-room.\n\nAll the animals cheered when he entered, and crowded round to\ncongratulate him and say nice things about his courage, and his\ncleverness, and his fighting qualities; but Toad only smiled faintly,\nand murmured, \"Not at all!\" Or, sometimes, for a change, \"On the\ncontrary!\" Otter, who was standing on the hearthrug, describing to an\nadmiring circle of friends exactly how he would have managed things\nhad he been there, came forward with a shout, threw his arm round\nToad's neck, and tried to take him round the room in triumphal\nprogress; but Toad, in a mild way, was rather snubby to him, remarking\ngently, as he disengaged himself, \"Badger's was the master mind; the\nMole and the Water Rat bore the brunt of the fighting; I merely served\nin the ranks and did little or nothing.\" The animals were evidently\npuzzled and taken aback by this unexpected attitude of his; and Toad\nfelt, as he moved from one guest to the other, making his modest\nresponses, that he was an object of absorbing interest to every one.\n\nThe Badger had ordered everything of the best, and the banquet was a\ngreat success. There was much talking and laughter and chaff among the\nanimals, but through it all Toad, who of course was in the chair,\nlooked down his nose and murmured pleasant nothings to the animals on\neither side of him. At intervals he stole a glance at the Badger and\nthe Rat, and always when he looked they were staring at each other\nwith their mouths open; and this gave him the greatest satisfaction.\nSome of the younger and livelier animals, as the evening wore on, got\nwhispering to each other that things were not so amusing as they used\nto be in the good old days; and there were some knockings on the table\nand cries of \"Toad! Speech! Speech from Toad! Song! Mr. Toad's song!\"\nBut Toad only shook his head gently, raised one paw in mild protest,\nand, by pressing delicacies on his guests, by topical small-talk, and\nby earnest inquiries after members of their families not yet old\nenough to appear at social functions, managed to convey to them that\nthis dinner was being run on strictly conventional lines.\n\nHe was indeed an altered Toad!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAfter this climax, the four animals continued to lead their lives, so\nrudely broken in upon by civil war, in great joy and contentment,\nundisturbed by further risings or invasions. Toad, after due\nconsultation with his friends, selected a handsome gold chain and\nlocket set with pearls, which he dispatched to the gaoler's daughter,\nwith a letter that even the Badger admitted to be modest, grateful,\nand appreciative; and the engine-driver, in his turn, was properly\nthanked and compensated for all his pains and trouble. Under severe\ncompulsion from the Badger, even the barge-woman was, with some\ntrouble, sought out and the value of her horse discreetly made good\nto her; though Toad kicked terribly at this, holding himself to be an\ninstrument of Fate, sent to punish fat women with mottled arms who\ncouldn't tell a real gentleman when they saw one. The amount involved,\nit was true, was not very burdensome, the gipsy's valuation being\nadmitted by local assessors to be approximately correct.\n\nSometimes, in the course of long summer evenings, the friends would\ntake a stroll together in the Wild Wood, now successfully tamed so far\nas they were concerned; and it was pleasing to see how respectfully\nthey were greeted by the inhabitants, and how the mother-weasels would\nbring their young ones to the mouths of their holes, and say,\npointing, \"Look, baby! There goes the great Mr. Toad! And that's the\ngallant Water Rat, a terrible fighter, walking along o' him! And\nyonder comes the famous Mr. Mole, of whom you so often have heard your\nfather tell!\" But when their infants were fractious and quite beyond\ncontrol, they would quiet them by telling how, if they didn't hush\nthem and not fret them, the terrible grey Badger would up and get\nthem. This was a base libel on Badger, who, though he cared little\nabout Society, was rather fond of children; but it never failed to\nhave its full effect.\n\n_The Wind in the Willows_"