Bab Bab 6 · MR. TOAD

. MR. TOAD

It was a bright morning in the early part of summer; the river had

resumed its wonted banks and its accustomed pace, and a hot sun seemed

to be pulling everything green and bushy and spiky up out of the earth

towards him, as if by strings. The Mole and the Water Rat had been up

since dawn, very busy on matters connected with boats and the opening

of the boating season; painting and varnishing, mending paddles,

repairing cushions, hunting for missing boat-hooks, and so on; and were

finishing breakfast in their little parlour and eagerly discussing

their plans for the day, when a heavy knock sounded at the door.

“Bother!” said the Rat, all over egg. “See who it is, Mole, like a good

chap, since you’ve finished.”

The Mole went to attend the summons, and the Rat heard him utter a cry

of surprise. Then he flung the parlour door open, and announced with

much importance, “Mr. Badger!”

This was a wonderful thing, indeed, that the Badger should pay a formal

call on them, or indeed on anybody. He generally had to be caught, if

you wanted him badly, as he slipped quietly along a hedgerow of an

early morning or a late evening, or else hunted up in his own house in

the middle of the Wood, which was a serious undertaking.

The Badger strode heavily into the room, and stood looking at the two

animals with an expression full of seriousness. The Rat let his

egg-spoon fall on the table-cloth, and sat open-mouthed.

“The hour has come!” said the Badger at last with great solemnity.

“What hour?” asked the Rat uneasily, glancing at the clock on the

mantelpiece.

“_Whose_ hour, you should rather say,” replied the Badger. “Why, Toad’s

hour! The hour of Toad! I said I would take him in hand as soon as the

winter was well over, and I’m going to take him in hand to-day!”

“Toad’s hour, of course!” cried the Mole delightedly. “Hooray! I

remember now! _We’ll_ teach him to be a sensible Toad!”

“This very morning,” continued the Badger, taking an arm-chair, “as I

learnt last night from a trustworthy source, another new and

exceptionally powerful motor-car will arrive at Toad Hall on approval

or return. At this very moment, perhaps, Toad is busy arraying himself

in those singularly hideous habiliments so dear to him, which transform

him from a (comparatively) good-looking Toad into an Object which

throws any decent-minded animal that comes across it into a violent

fit. We must be up and doing, ere it is too late. You two animals will

accompany me instantly to Toad Hall, and the work of rescue shall be

accomplished.”

“Right you are!” cried the Rat, starting up. “We’ll rescue the poor

unhappy animal! We’ll convert him! He’ll be the most converted Toad

that ever was before we’ve done with him!”

They set off up the road on their mission of mercy, Badger leading the

way. Animals when in company walk in a proper and sensible manner, in

single file, instead of sprawling all across the road and being of no

use or support to each other in case of sudden trouble or danger.

They reached the carriage-drive of Toad Hall to find, as the Badger had

anticipated, a shiny new motor-car, of great size, painted a bright red

(Toad’s favourite colour), standing in front of the house. As they

neared the door it was flung open, and Mr. Toad, arrayed in goggles,

cap, gaiters, and enormous overcoat, came swaggering down the steps,

drawing on his gauntleted gloves.

“Hullo! come on, you fellows!” he cried cheerfully on catching sight of

them. “You’re just in time to come with me for a jolly—to come for a

jolly—for a—er—jolly——”

His hearty accents faltered and fell away as he noticed the stern

unbending look on the countenances of his silent friends, and his

invitation remained unfinished.

The Badger strode up the steps. “Take him inside,” he said sternly to

his companions. Then, as Toad was hustled through the door, struggling

and protesting, he turned to the _chauffeur_ in charge of the new

motor-car.

“I’m afraid you won’t be wanted to-day,” he said. “Mr. Toad has changed

his mind. He will not require the car. Please understand that this is

final. You needn’t wait.” Then he followed the others inside and shut

the door.

“Now then!” he said to the Toad, when the four of them stood together

in the Hall, “first of all, take those ridiculous things off!”

“Shan’t!” replied Toad, with great spirit. “What is the meaning of this

gross outrage? I demand an instant explanation.”

“Take them off him, then, you two,” ordered the Badger briefly.

They had to lay Toad out on the floor, kicking and calling all sorts of

names, before they could get to work properly. Then the Rat sat on him,

and the Mole got his motor-clothes off him bit by bit, and they stood

him up on his legs again. A good deal of his blustering spirit seemed

to have evaporated with the removal of his fine panoply. Now that he

was merely Toad, and no longer the Terror of the Highway, he giggled

feebly and looked from one to the other appealingly, seeming quite to

understand the situation.

“You knew it must come to this, sooner or later, Toad,” the Badger

explained severely.

You’ve disregarded all the warnings we’ve given you, you’ve gone on

squandering the money your father left you, and you’re getting us

animals a bad name in the district by your furious driving and your

smashes and your rows with the police. Independence is all very well,

but we animals never allow our friends to make fools of themselves

beyond a certain limit; and that limit you’ve reached. Now, you’re a

good fellow in many respects, and I don’t want to be too hard on you.

I’ll make one more effort to bring you to reason. You will come with me

into the smoking-room, and there you will hear some facts about

yourself; and we’ll see whether you come out of that room the same Toad

that you went in.”

He took Toad firmly by the arm, led him into the smoking-room, and

closed the door behind them.

“_That’s_ no good!” said the Rat contemptuously. “_Talking_ to Toad’ll

never cure him. He’ll _say_ anything.”

They made themselves comfortable in armchairs and waited patiently.

Through the closed door they could just hear the long continuous drone

of the Badger’s voice, rising and falling in waves of oratory; and

presently they noticed that the sermon began to be punctuated at

intervals by long-drawn sobs, evidently proceeding from the bosom of

Toad, who was a soft-hearted and affectionate fellow, very easily

converted—for the time being—to any point of view.

After some three-quarters of an hour the door opened, and the Badger

reappeared, solemnly leading by the paw a very limp and dejected Toad.

His skin hung baggily about him, his legs wobbled, and his cheeks were

furrowed by the tears so plentifully called forth by the Badger’s

moving discourse.

“Sit down there, Toad,” said the Badger kindly, pointing to a chair.

“My friends,” he went on, “I am pleased to inform you that Toad has at

last seen the error of his ways. He is truly sorry for his misguided

conduct in the past, and he has undertaken to give up motor-cars

entirely and for ever. I have his solemn promise to that effect.”

“That is very good news,” said the Mole gravely.

“Very good news indeed,” observed the Rat dubiously, “if only—_if_

only——”

He was looking very hard at Toad as he said this, and could not help

thinking he perceived something vaguely resembling a twinkle in that

animal’s still sorrowful eye.

“There’s only one thing more to be done,” continued the gratified

Badger. “Toad, I want you solemnly to repeat, before your friends here,

what you fully admitted to me in the smoking-room just now. First, you

are sorry for what you’ve done, and you see the folly of it all?”

There was a long, long pause. Toad looked desperately this way and

that, while the other animals waited in grave silence. At last he

spoke.

“No!” he said, a little sullenly, but stoutly; “I’m _not_ sorry. And it

wasn’t folly at all! It was simply glorious!”

“What?” cried the Badger, greatly scandalised. “You backsliding animal,

didn’t you tell me just now, in there——”

“Oh, yes, yes, in _there_,” said Toad impatiently. “I’d have said

anything in _there_. You’re so eloquent, dear Badger, and so moving,

and so convincing, and put all your points so frightfully well—you can

do what you like with me in _there_, and you know it. But I’ve been

searching my mind since, and going over things in it, and I find that

I’m not a bit sorry or repentant really, so it’s no earthly good saying

I am; now, is it?”

“Then you don’t promise,” said the Badger, “never to touch a motor-car

again?”

“Certainly not!” replied Toad emphatically. “On the contrary, I

faithfully promise that the very first motor-car I see, poop-poop! off

I go in it!”

“Told you so, didn’t I?” observed the Rat to the Mole.

“Very well, then,” said the Badger firmly, rising to his feet. “Since

you won’t yield to persuasion, we’ll try what force can do. I feared it

would come to this all along. You’ve often asked us three to come and

stay with you, Toad, in this handsome house of yours; well, now we’re

going to. When we’ve converted you to a proper point of view we may

quit, but not before. Take him upstairs, you two, and lock him up in

his bedroom, while we arrange matters between ourselves.”

“It’s for your own good, Toady, you know,” said the Rat kindly, as

Toad, kicking and struggling, was hauled up the stairs by his two

faithful friends. “Think what fun we shall all have together, just as

we used to, when you’ve quite got over this—this painful attack of

yours!”

“We’ll take great care of everything for you till you’re well, Toad,”

said the Mole; “and we’ll see your money isn’t wasted, as it has been.”

“No more of those regrettable incidents with the police, Toad,” said

the Rat, as they thrust him into his bedroom.

“And no more weeks in hospital, being ordered about by female nurses,

Toad,” added the Mole, turning the key on him.

They descended the stair, Toad shouting abuse at them through the

keyhole; and the three friends then met in conference on the situation.

“It’s going to be a tedious business,” said the Badger, sighing. “I’ve

never seen Toad so determined. However, we will see it out. He must

never be left an instant unguarded. We shall have to take it in turns

to be with him, till the poison has worked itself out of his system.”

They arranged watches accordingly. Each animal took it in turns to

sleep in Toad’s room at night, and they divided the day up between

them. At first Toad was undoubtedly very trying to his careful

guardians. When his violent paroxysms possessed him he would arrange

bedroom chairs in rude resemblance of a motor-car and would crouch on

the foremost of them, bent forward and staring fixedly ahead, making

uncouth and ghastly noises, till the climax was reached, when, turning

a complete somersault, he would lie prostrate amidst the ruins of the

chairs, apparently completely satisfied for the moment. As time passed,

however, these painful seizures grew gradually less frequent, and his

friends strove to divert his mind into fresh channels. But his interest

in other matters did not seem to revive, and he grew apparently languid

and depressed.

One fine morning the Rat, whose turn it was to go on duty, went

upstairs to relieve Badger, whom he found fidgeting to be off and

stretch his legs in a long ramble round his wood and down his earths

and burrows. “Toad’s still in bed,” he told the Rat, outside the door.

“Can’t get much out of him, except, ‘O leave him alone, he wants

nothing, perhaps he’ll be better presently, it may pass off in time,

don’t be unduly anxious,’ and so on. Now, you look out, Rat! When

Toad’s quiet and submissive and playing at being the hero of a

Sunday-school prize, then he’s at his artfullest. There’s sure to be

something up. I know him. Well, now, I must be off.”

“How are you to-day, old chap?” inquired the Rat cheerfully, as he

approached Toad’s bedside.

He had to wait some minutes for an answer. At last a feeble voice

replied, “Thank you so much, dear Ratty! So good of you to inquire! But

first tell me how you are yourself, and the excellent Mole?”

“O, _we’re_ all right,” replied the Rat. “Mole,” he added incautiously,

“is going out for a run round with Badger. They’ll be out till luncheon

time, so you and I will spend a pleasant morning together, and I’ll do

my best to amuse you. Now jump up, there’s a good fellow, and don’t lie

moping there on a fine morning like this!”

“Dear, kind Rat,” murmured Toad, “how little you realise my condition,

and how very far I am from ‘jumping up’ now—if ever! But do not trouble

about me. I hate being a burden to my friends, and I do not expect to

be one much longer. Indeed, I almost hope not.”

“Well, I hope not, too,” said the Rat heartily. “You’ve been a fine

bother to us all this time, and I’m glad to hear it’s going to stop.

And in weather like this, and the boating season just beginning! It’s

too bad of you, Toad! It isn’t the trouble we mind, but you’re making

us miss such an awful lot.”

“I’m afraid it _is_ the trouble you mind, though,” replied the Toad

languidly. “I can quite understand it. It’s natural enough. You’re

tired of bothering about me. I mustn’t ask you to do anything further.

I’m a nuisance, I know.”

“You are, indeed,” said the Rat. “But I tell you, I’d take any trouble

on earth for you, if only you’d be a sensible animal.”

“If I thought that, Ratty,” murmured Toad, more feebly than ever, “then

I would beg you—for the last time, probably—to step round to the

village as quickly as possible—even now it may be too late—and fetch

the doctor. But don’t you bother. It’s only a trouble, and perhaps we

may as well let things take their course.”

“Why, what do you want a doctor for?” inquired the Rat, coming closer

and examining him. He certainly lay very still and flat, and his voice

was weaker and his manner much changed.

“Surely you have noticed of late——” murmured Toad. “But, no—why should

you? Noticing things is only a trouble. To-morrow, indeed, you may be

saying to yourself, ‘O, if only I had noticed sooner! If only I had

done something!’ But no; it’s a trouble. Never mind—forget that I

asked.”

“Look here, old man,” said the Rat, beginning to get rather alarmed,

“of course I’ll fetch a doctor to you, if you really think you want

him. But you can hardly be bad enough for that yet. Let’s talk about

something else.”

“I fear, dear friend,” said Toad, with a sad smile, “that ‘talk’ can do

little in a case like this—or doctors either, for that matter; still,

one must grasp at the slightest straw. And, by the way—while you are

about it—I _hate_ to give you additional trouble, but I happen to

remember that you will pass the door—would you mind at the same time

asking the lawyer to step up? It would be a convenience to me, and

there are moments—perhaps I should say there is _a_ moment—when one

must face disagreeable tasks, at whatever cost to exhausted nature!”

“A lawyer! O, he must be really bad!” the affrighted Rat said to

himself, as he hurried from the room, not forgetting, however, to lock

the door carefully behind him.

Outside, he stopped to consider. The other two were far away, and he

had no one to consult.

“It’s best to be on the safe side,” he said, on reflection. “I’ve known

Toad fancy himself frightfully bad before, without the slightest

reason; but I’ve never heard him ask for a lawyer! If there’s nothing

really the matter, the doctor will tell him he’s an old ass, and cheer

him up; and that will be something gained. I’d better humour him and

go; it won’t take very long.” So he ran off to the village on his

errand of mercy.

The Toad, who had hopped lightly out of bed as soon as he heard the key

turned in the lock, watched him eagerly from the window till he

disappeared down the carriage-drive. Then, laughing heartily, he

dressed as quickly as possible in the smartest suit he could lay hands

on at the moment, filled his pockets with cash which he took from a

small drawer in the dressing-table, and next, knotting the sheets from

his bed together and tying one end of the improvised rope round the

central mullion of the handsome Tudor window which formed such a

feature of his bedroom, he scrambled out, slid lightly to the ground,

and, taking the opposite direction to the Rat, marched off

lightheartedly, whistling a merry tune.

It was a gloomy luncheon for Rat when the Badger and the Mole at length

returned, and he had to face them at table with his pitiful and

unconvincing story. The Badger’s caustic, not to say brutal, remarks

may be imagined, and therefore passed over; but it was painful to the

Rat that even the Mole, though he took his friend’s side as far as

possible, could not help saying, “You’ve been a bit of a duffer this

time, Ratty! Toad, too, of all animals!”

“He did it awfully well,” said the crestfallen Rat.

“He did _you_ awfully well!” rejoined the Badger hotly. “However,

talking won’t mend matters. He’s got clear away for the time, that’s

certain; and the worst of it is, he’ll be so conceited with what he’ll

think is his cleverness that he may commit any folly. One comfort is,

we’re free now, and needn’t waste any more of our precious time doing

sentry-go. But we’d better continue to sleep at Toad Hall for a while

longer. Toad may be brought back at any moment—on a stretcher, or

between two policemen.”

So spoke the Badger, not knowing what the future held in store, or how

much water, and of how turbid a character, was to run under bridges

before Toad should sit at ease again in his ancestral Hall.

Meanwhile, Toad, gay and irresponsible, was walking briskly along the

high road, some miles from home. At first he had taken by-paths, and

crossed many fields, and changed his course several times, in case of

pursuit; but now, feeling by this time safe from recapture, and the sun

smiling brightly on him, and all Nature joining in a chorus of approval

to the song of self-praise that his own heart was singing to him, he

almost danced along the road in his satisfaction and conceit.

“Smart piece of work that!” he remarked to himself chuckling. “Brain

against brute force—and brain came out on the top—as it’s bound to do.

Poor old Ratty! My! won’t he catch it when the Badger gets back! A

worthy fellow, Ratty, with many good qualities, but very little

intelligence and absolutely no education. I must take him in hand some

day, and see if I can make something of him.”

Filled full of conceited thoughts such as these he strode along, his

head in the air, till he reached a little town, where the sign of “The

Red Lion,” swinging across the road halfway down the main street,

reminded him that he had not breakfasted that day, and that he was

exceedingly hungry after his long walk. He marched into the Inn,

ordered the best luncheon that could be provided at so short a notice,

and sat down to eat it in the coffee-room.

He was about half-way through his meal when an only too familiar sound,

approaching down the street, made him start and fall a-trembling all

over. The poop-poop! drew nearer and nearer, the car could be heard to

turn into the inn-yard and come to a stop, and Toad had to hold on to

the leg of the table to conceal his over-mastering emotion. Presently

the party entered the coffee-room, hungry, talkative, and gay, voluble

on their experiences of the morning and the merits of the chariot that

had brought them along so well. Toad listened eagerly, all ears, for a

time; at last he could stand it no longer. He slipped out of the room

quietly, paid his bill at the bar, and as soon as he got outside

sauntered round quietly to the inn-yard. “There cannot be any harm,” he

said to himself, “in my only just _looking_ at it!”

The car stood in the middle of the yard, quite unattended, the

stable-helps and other hangers-on being all at their dinner. Toad

walked slowly round it, inspecting, criticising, musing deeply.

“I wonder,” he said to himself presently, “I wonder if this sort of car

_starts_ easily?”

Next moment, hardly knowing how it came about, he found he had hold of

the handle and was turning it. As the familiar sound broke forth, the

old passion seized on Toad and completely mastered him, body and soul.

As if in a dream he found himself, somehow, seated in the driver’s

seat; as if in a dream, he pulled the lever and swung the car round the

yard and out through the archway; and, as if in a dream, all sense of

right and wrong, all fear of obvious consequences, seemed temporarily

suspended. He increased his pace, and as the car devoured the street

and leapt forth on the high road through the open country, he was only

conscious that he was Toad once more, Toad at his best and highest,

Toad the terror, the traffic-queller, the Lord of the lone trail,

before whom all must give way or be smitten into nothingness and

everlasting night. He chanted as he flew, and the car responded with

sonorous drone; the miles were eaten up under him as he sped he knew

not whither, fulfilling his instincts, living his hour, reckless of

what might come to him.

“To my mind,” observed the Chairman of the Bench of Magistrates

cheerfully, “the _only_ difficulty that presents itself in this

otherwise very clear case is, how we can possibly make it sufficiently

hot for the incorrigible rogue and hardened ruffian whom we see

cowering in the dock before us. Let me see: he has been found guilty,

on the clearest evidence, first, of stealing a valuable motor-car;

secondly, of driving to the public danger; and, thirdly, of gross

impertinence to the rural police. Mr. Clerk, will you tell us, please,

what is the very stiffest penalty we can impose for each of these

offences? Without, of course, giving the prisoner the benefit of any

doubt, because there isn’t any.”

The Clerk scratched his nose with his pen. “Some people would

consider,” he observed, “that stealing the motor-car was the worst

offence; and so it is. But cheeking the police undoubtedly carries the

severest penalty; and so it ought. Supposing you were to say twelve

months for the theft, which is mild; and three years for the furious

driving, which is lenient; and fifteen years for the cheek, which was

pretty bad sort of cheek, judging by what we’ve heard from the

witness-box, even if you only believe one-tenth part of what you heard,

and I never believe more myself—those figures, if added together

correctly, tot up to nineteen years——”

“First-rate!” said the Chairman.

“—So you had better make it a round twenty years and be on the safe

side,” concluded the Clerk.

“An excellent suggestion!” said the Chairman approvingly. “Prisoner!

Pull yourself together and try and stand up straight. It’s going to be

twenty years for you this time. And mind, if you appear before us

again, upon any charge whatever, we shall have to deal with you very

seriously!”

Then the brutal minions of the law fell upon the hapless Toad; loaded

him with chains, and dragged him from the Court House, shrieking,

praying, protesting; across the marketplace, where the playful

populace, always as severe upon detected crime as they are sympathetic

and helpful when one is merely “wanted,” assailed him with jeers,

carrots, and popular catch-words; past hooting school children, their

innocent faces lit up with the pleasure they ever derive from the sight

of a gentleman in difficulties; across the hollow-sounding drawbridge,

below the spiky portcullis, under the frowning archway of the grim old

castle, whose ancient towers soared high overhead; past guardrooms full

of grinning soldiery off duty, past sentries who coughed in a horrid,

sarcastic way, because that is as much as a sentry on his post dare do

to show his contempt and abhorrence of crime; up time-worn winding

stairs, past men-at-arms in casquet and corselet of steel, darting

threatening looks through their vizards; across courtyards, where

mastiffs strained at their leash and pawed the air to get at him; past

ancient warders, their halberds leant against the wall, dozing over a

pasty and a flagon of brown ale; on and on, past the rack-chamber and

the thumbscrew-room, past the turning that led to the private scaffold,

till they reached the door of the grimmest dungeon that lay in the

heart of the innermost keep. There at last they paused, where an

ancient gaoler sat fingering a bunch of mighty keys.

“Oddsbodikins!” said the sergeant of police, taking off his helmet and

wiping his forehead. “Rouse thee, old loon, and take over from us this

vile Toad, a criminal of deepest guilt and matchless artfulness and

resource. Watch and ward him with all thy skill; and mark thee well,

greybeard, should aught untoward befall, thy old head shall answer for

his—and a murrain on both of them!”

The gaoler nodded grimly, laying his withered hand on the shoulder of

the miserable Toad. The rusty key creaked in the lock, the great door

clanged behind them; and Toad was a helpless prisoner in the remotest

dungeon of the best-guarded keep of the stoutest castle in all the

length and breadth of Merry England.