Bab Bab 11 · “LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS CAME HIS TEARS”

. “LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS CAME HIS TEARS”

The Rat put out a neat little brown paw, gripped Toad firmly by the

scruff of the neck, and gave a great hoist and a pull; and the

water-logged Toad came up slowly but surely over the edge of the hole,

till at last he stood safe and sound in the hall, streaked with mud and

weed to be sure, and with the water streaming off him, but happy and

high-spirited as of old, now that he found himself once more in the

house of a friend, and dodgings and evasions were over, and he could

lay aside a disguise that was unworthy of his position and wanted such

a lot of living up to.

“O, Ratty!” he cried. “I’ve been through such times since I saw you

last, you can’t think! Such trials, such sufferings, and all so nobly

borne! Then such escapes, such disguises such subterfuges, and all so

cleverly planned and carried out! Been in prison—got out of it, of

course! Been thrown into a canal—swam ashore! Stole a horse—sold him

for a large sum of money! Humbugged everybody—made ’em all do exactly

what I wanted! Oh, I _am_ a smart Toad, and no mistake! What do you

think my last exploit was? Just hold on till I tell you——”

“Toad,” said the Water Rat, gravely and firmly, “you go off upstairs at

once, and take off that old cotton rag that looks as if it might

formerly have belonged to some washerwoman, and clean yourself

thoroughly, and put on some of my clothes, and try and come down

looking like a gentleman if you _can;_ for a more shabby, bedraggled,

disreputable-looking object than you are I never set eyes on in my

whole life! Now, stop swaggering and arguing, and be off! I’ll have

something to say to you later!”

Toad was at first inclined to stop and do some talking back at him. He

had had enough of being ordered about when he was in prison, and here

was the thing being begun all over again, apparently; and by a Rat,

too! However, he caught sight of himself in the looking-glass over the

hat-stand, with the rusty black bonnet perched rakishly over one eye,

and he changed his mind and went very quickly and humbly upstairs to

the Rat’s dressing-room. There he had a thorough wash and brush-up,

changed his clothes, and stood for a long time before the glass,

contemplating himself with pride and pleasure, and thinking what utter

idiots all the people must have been to have ever mistaken him for one

moment for a washerwoman.

By the time he came down again luncheon was on the table, and very glad

Toad was to see it, for he had been through some trying experiences and

had taken much hard exercise since the excellent breakfast provided for

him by the gipsy. While they ate Toad told the Rat all his adventures,

dwelling chiefly on his own cleverness, and presence of mind in

emergencies, and cunning in tight places; and rather making out that he

had been having a gay and highly-coloured experience. But the more he

talked and boasted, the more grave and silent the Rat became.

When at last Toad had talked himself to a standstill, there was silence

for a while; and then the Rat said, “Now, Toady, I don’t want to give

you pain, after all you’ve been through already; but, seriously, don’t

you see what an awful ass you’ve been making of yourself? On your own

admission you have been handcuffed, imprisoned, starved, chased,

terrified out of your life, insulted, jeered at, and ignominiously

flung into the water—by a woman, too! Where’s the amusement in that?

Where does the fun come in? And all because you must needs go and steal

a motor-car. You know that you’ve never had anything but trouble from

motor-cars from the moment you first set eyes on one. But if you _will_

be mixed up with them—as you generally are, five minutes after you’ve

started—why _steal_ them? Be a cripple, if you think it’s exciting; be

a bankrupt, for a change, if you’ve set your mind on it: but why choose

to be a convict? When are you going to be sensible, and think of your

friends, and try and be a credit to them? Do you suppose it’s any

pleasure to me, for instance, to hear animals saying, as I go about,

that I’m the chap that keeps company with gaol-birds?”

Now, it was a very comforting point in Toad’s character that he was a

thoroughly good-hearted animal and never minded being jawed by those

who were his real friends. And even when most set upon a thing, he was

always able to see the other side of the question. So although, while

the Rat was talking so seriously, he kept saying to himself mutinously,

“But it _was_ fun, though! Awful fun!” and making strange suppressed

noises inside him, k-i-ck-ck-ck, and poop-p-p, and other sounds

resembling stifled snorts, or the opening of soda-water bottles, yet

when the Rat had quite finished, he heaved a deep sigh and said, very

nicely and humbly, “Quite right, Ratty! How _sound_ you always are!

Yes, I’ve been a conceited old ass, I can quite see that; but now I’m

going to be a good Toad, and not do it any more. As for motor-cars,

I’ve not been at all so keen about them since my last ducking in that

river of yours. The fact is, while I was hanging on to the edge of your

hole and getting my breath, I had a sudden idea—a really brilliant

idea—connected with motor-boats—there, there! don’t take on so, old

chap, and stamp, and upset things; it was only an idea, and we won’t

talk any more about it now. We’ll have our coffee, _and_ a smoke, and a

quiet chat, and then I’m going to stroll quietly down to Toad Hall, and

get into clothes of my own, and set things going again on the old

lines. I’ve had enough of adventures. I shall lead a quiet, steady,

respectable life, pottering about my property, and improving it, and

doing a little landscape gardening at times. There will always be a bit

of dinner for my friends when they come to see me; and I shall keep a

pony-chaise to jog about the country in, just as I used to in the good

old days, before I got restless, and wanted to _do_ things.”

“Stroll quietly down to Toad Hall?” cried the Rat, greatly excited.

“What are you talking about? Do you mean to say you haven’t _heard?_”

“Heard what?” said Toad, turning rather pale. “Go on, Ratty! Quick!

Don’t spare me! What haven’t I heard?”

“Do you mean to tell me,” shouted the Rat, thumping with his little

fist upon the table, “that you’ve heard nothing about the Stoats and

Weasels?”

What, the Wild Wooders?” cried Toad, trembling in every limb. “No, not

a word! What have they been doing?”

“—And how they’ve been and taken Toad Hall?” continued the Rat.

Toad leaned his elbows on the table, and his chin on his paws; and a

large tear welled up in each of his eyes, overflowed and splashed on

the table, plop! plop!

“Go on, Ratty,” he murmured presently; “tell me all. The worst is over.

I am an animal again. I can bear it.”

“When you—got—into that—that—trouble of yours,” said the Rat, slowly

and impressively; “I mean, when you—disappeared from society for a

time, over that misunderstanding about a—a machine, you know—”

Toad merely nodded.

“Well, it was a good deal talked about down here, naturally,” continued

the Rat, “not only along the river-side, but even in the Wild Wood.

Animals took sides, as always happens. The River-bankers stuck up for

you, and said you had been infamously treated, and there was no justice

to be had in the land nowadays. But the Wild Wood animals said hard

things, and served you right, and it was time this sort of thing was

stopped. And they got very cocky, and went about saying you were done

for this time! You would never come back again, never, never!”

Toad nodded once more, keeping silence.

“That’s the sort of little beasts they are,” the Rat went on. “But Mole

and Badger, they stuck out, through thick and thin, that you would come

back again soon, somehow. They didn’t know exactly how, but somehow!”

Toad began to sit up in his chair again, and to smirk a little.

“They argued from history,” continued the Rat. “They said that no

criminal laws had ever been known to prevail against cheek and

plausibility such as yours, combined with the power of a long purse. So

they arranged to move their things in to Toad Hall, and sleep there,

and keep it aired, and have it all ready for you when you turned up.

They didn’t guess what was going to happen, of course; still, they had

their suspicions of the Wild Wood animals. Now I come to the most

painful and tragic part of my story. One dark night—it was a _very_

dark night, and blowing hard, too, and raining simply cats and dogs—a

band of weasels, armed to the teeth, crept silently up the

carriage-drive to the front entrance. Simultaneously, a body of

desperate ferrets, advancing through the kitchen-garden, possessed

themselves of the backyard and offices; while a company of skirmishing

stoats who stuck at nothing occupied the conservatory and the

billiard-room, and held the French windows opening on to the lawn.

“The Mole and the Badger were sitting by the fire in the smoking-room,

telling stories and suspecting nothing, for it wasn’t a night for any

animals to be out in, when those bloodthirsty villains broke down the

doors and rushed in upon them from every side. They made the best fight

they could, but what was the good? They were unarmed, and taken by

surprise, and what can two animals do against hundreds? They took and

beat them severely with sticks, those two poor faithful creatures, and

turned them out into the cold and the wet, with many insulting and

uncalled-for remarks!”

Here the unfeeling Toad broke into a snigger, and then pulled himself

together and tried to look particularly solemn.

“And the Wild Wooders have been living in Toad Hall ever since,”

continued the Rat; “and going on simply anyhow! Lying in bed half the

day, and breakfast at all hours, and the place in such a mess (I’m

told) it’s not fit to be seen! Eating your grub, and drinking your

drink, and making bad jokes about you, and singing vulgar songs,

about—well, about prisons and magistrates, and policemen; horrid

personal songs, with no humour in them. And they’re telling the

tradespeople and everybody that they’ve come to stay for good.”

“O, have they!” said Toad getting up and seizing a stick. “I’ll jolly

soon see about that!”

“It’s no good, Toad!” called the Rat after him. “You’d better come back

and sit down; you’ll only get into trouble.”

But the Toad was off, and there was no holding him. He marched rapidly

down the road, his stick over his shoulder, fuming and muttering to

himself in his anger, till he got near his front gate, when suddenly

there popped up from behind the palings a long yellow ferret with a

gun.

“Who comes there?” said the ferret sharply.

“Stuff and nonsense!” said Toad, very angrily. “What do you mean by

talking like that to me? Come out of that at once, or I’ll——”

The ferret said never a word, but he brought his gun up to his

shoulder. Toad prudently dropped flat in the road, and _Bang!_ a bullet

whistled over his head.

The startled Toad scrambled to his feet and scampered off down the road

as hard as he could; and as he ran he heard the ferret laughing and

other horrid thin little laughs taking it up and carrying on the sound.

He went back, very crestfallen, and told the Water Rat.

“What did I tell you?” said the Rat. “It’s no good. They’ve got

sentries posted, and they are all armed. You must just wait.”

Still, Toad was not inclined to give in all at once. So he got out the

boat, and set off rowing up the river to where the garden front of Toad

Hall came down to the waterside.

Arriving within sight of his old home, he rested on his oars and

surveyed the land cautiously. All seemed very peaceful and deserted and

quiet. He could see the whole front of Toad Hall, glowing in the

evening sunshine, the pigeons settling by twos and threes along the

straight line of the roof; the garden, a blaze of flowers; the creek

that led up to the boat-house, the little wooden bridge that crossed

it; all tranquil, uninhabited, apparently waiting for his return. He

would try the boat-house first, he thought. Very warily he paddled up

to the mouth of the creek, and was just passing under the bridge, when

... _Crash!_

A great stone, dropped from above, smashed through the bottom of the

boat. It filled and sank, and Toad found himself struggling in deep

water. Looking up, he saw two stoats leaning over the parapet of the

bridge and watching him with great glee. “It will be your head next

time, Toady!” they called out to him. The indignant Toad swam to shore,

while the stoats laughed and laughed, supporting each other, and

laughed again, till they nearly had two fits—that is, one fit each, of

course.

The Toad retraced his weary way on foot, and related his disappointing

experiences to the Water Rat once more.

“Well, _what_ did I tell you?” said the Rat very crossly. “And, now,

look here! See what you’ve been and done! Lost me my boat that I was so

fond of, that’s what you’ve done! And simply ruined that nice suit of

clothes that I lent you! Really, Toad, of all the trying animals—I

wonder you manage to keep any friends at all!”

The Toad saw at once how wrongly and foolishly he had acted. He

admitted his errors and wrong-headedness and made a full apology to Rat

for losing his boat and spoiling his clothes. And he wound up by

saying, with that frank self-surrender which always disarmed his

friend’s criticism and won them back to his side, “Ratty! I see that I

have been a headstrong and a wilful Toad! Henceforth, believe me, I

will be humble and submissive, and will take no action without your

kind advice and full approval!”

“If that is really so,” said the good-natured Rat, already appeased,

“then my advice to you is, considering the lateness of the hour, to sit

down and have your supper, which will be on the table in a minute, and

be very patient. For I am convinced that we can do nothing until we

have seen the Mole and the Badger, and heard their latest news, and

held conference and taken their advice in this difficult matter.”

“Oh, ah, yes, of course, the Mole and the Badger,” said Toad, lightly.

“What’s become of them, the dear fellows? I had forgotten all about

them.”

“Well may you ask!” said the Rat reproachfully. “While you were riding

about the country in expensive motor-cars, and galloping proudly on

blood-horses, and breakfasting on the fat of the land, those two poor

devoted animals have been camping out in the open, in every sort of

weather, living very rough by day and lying very hard by night;

watching over your house, patrolling your boundaries, keeping a

constant eye on the stoats and the weasels, scheming and planning and

contriving how to get your property back for you. You don’t deserve to

have such true and loyal friends, Toad, you don’t, really. Some day,

when it’s too late, you’ll be sorry you didn’t value them more while

you had them!”

“I’m an ungrateful beast, I know,” sobbed Toad, shedding bitter tears.

“Let me go out and find them, out into the cold, dark night, and share

their hardships, and try and prove by——Hold on a bit! Surely I heard

the chink of dishes on a tray! Supper’s here at last, hooray! Come on,

Ratty!”

The Rat remembered that poor Toad had been on prison fare for a

considerable time, and that large allowances had therefore to be made.

He followed him to the table accordingly, and hospitably encouraged him

in his gallant efforts to make up for past privations.

They had just finished their meal and resumed their arm-chairs, when

there came a heavy knock at the door.

Toad was nervous, but the Rat, nodding mysteriously at him, went

straight up to the door and opened it, and in walked Mr. Badger.

He had all the appearance of one who for some nights had been kept away

from home and all its little comforts and conveniences. His shoes were

covered with mud, and he was looking very rough and touzled; but then

he had never been a very smart man, the Badger, at the best of times.

He came solemnly up to Toad, shook him by the paw, and said, “Welcome

home, Toad! Alas! what am I saying? Home, indeed! This is a poor

home-coming. Unhappy Toad!” Then he turned his back on him, sat down to

the table, drew his chair up, and helped himself to a large slice of

cold pie.

Toad was quite alarmed at this very serious and portentous style of

greeting; but the Rat whispered to him, “Never mind; don’t take any

notice; and don’t say anything to him just yet. He’s always rather low

and despondent when he’s wanting his victuals. In half an hour’s time

he’ll be quite a different animal.”

So they waited in silence, and presently there came another and a

lighter knock. The Rat, with a nod to Toad, went to the door and

ushered in the Mole, very shabby and unwashed, with bits of hay and

straw sticking in his fur.

“Hooray! Here’s old Toad!” cried the Mole, his face beaming. “Fancy

having you back again!” And he began to dance round him. “We never

dreamt you would turn up so soon! Why, you must have managed to escape,

you clever, ingenious, intelligent Toad!”

The Rat, alarmed, pulled him by the elbow; but it was too late. Toad

was puffing and swelling already.

“Clever? O, no!” he said. “I’m not really clever, according to my

friends. I’ve only broken out of the strongest prison in England,

that’s all! And captured a railway train and escaped on it, that’s all!

And disguised myself and gone about the country humbugging everybody,

that’s all! O, no! I’m a stupid ass, I am! I’ll tell you one or two of

my little adventures, Mole, and you shall judge for yourself!”

“Well, well,” said the Mole, moving towards the supper-table;

“supposing you talk while I eat. Not a bite since breakfast! O my! O

my!” And he sat down and helped himself liberally to cold beef and

pickles.

Toad straddled on the hearth-rug, thrust his paw into his

trouser-pocket and pulled out a handful of silver. “Look at that!” he

cried, displaying it. “That’s not so bad, is it, for a few minutes’

work? And how do you think I done it, Mole? Horse-dealing! That’s how I

done it!”

“Go on, Toad,” said the Mole, immensely interested.

“Toad, do be quiet, please!” said the Rat. “And don’t you egg him on,

Mole, when you know what he is; but please tell us as soon as possible

what the position is, and what’s best to be done, now that Toad is back

at last.”

“The position’s about as bad as it can be,” replied the Mole grumpily;

“and as for what’s to be done, why, blest if I know! The Badger and I

have been round and round the place, by night and by day; always the

same thing. Sentries posted everywhere, guns poked out at us, stones

thrown at us; always an animal on the look-out, and when they see us,

my! how they do laugh! That’s what annoys me most!”

“It’s a very difficult situation,” said the Rat, reflecting deeply.

“But I think I see now, in the depths of my mind, what Toad really

ought to do. I will tell you. He ought to——”

“No, he oughtn’t!” shouted the Mole, with his mouth full. “Nothing of

the sort! You don’t understand. What he ought to do is, he ought to——”

“Well, I shan’t do it, anyway!” cried Toad, getting excited. “I’m not

going to be ordered about by you fellows! It’s my house we’re talking

about, and I know exactly what to do, and I’ll tell you. I’m going

to——”

By this time they were all three talking at once, at the top of their

voices, and the noise was simply deafening, when a thin, dry voice made

itself heard, saying, “Be quiet at once, all of you!” and instantly

every one was silent.

It was the Badger, who, having finished his pie, had turned round in

his chair and was looking at them severely. When he saw that he had

secured their attention, and that they were evidently waiting for him

to address them, he turned back to the table again and reached out for

the cheese. And so great was the respect commanded by the solid

qualities of that admirable animal, that not another word was uttered

until he had quite finished his repast and brushed the crumbs from his

knees. The Toad fidgeted a good deal, but the Rat held him firmly down.

When the Badger had quite done, he got up from his seat and stood

before the fireplace, reflecting deeply. At last he spoke.

“Toad!” he said severely. “You bad, troublesome little animal! Aren’t

you ashamed of yourself? What do you think your father, my old friend,

would have said if he had been here to-night, and had known of all your

goings on?”

Toad, who was on the sofa by this time, with his legs up, rolled over

on his face, shaken by sobs of contrition.

“There, there!” went on the Badger, more kindly. “Never mind. Stop

crying. We’re going to let bygones be bygones, and try and turn over a

new leaf. But what the Mole says is quite true. The stoats are on

guard, at every point, and they make the best sentinels in the world.

It’s quite useless to think of attacking the place. They’re too strong

for us.”

“Then it’s all over,” sobbed the Toad, crying into the sofa cushions.

“I shall go and enlist for a soldier, and never see my dear Toad Hall

any more!”

“Come, cheer up, Toady!” said the Badger. “There are more ways of

getting back a place than taking it by storm. I haven’t said my last

word yet. Now I’m going to tell you a great secret.”

Toad sat up slowly and dried his eyes. Secrets had an immense

attraction for him, because he never could keep one, and he enjoyed the

sort of unhallowed thrill he experienced when he went and told another

animal, after having faithfully promised not to.

“There—is—an—underground—passage,” said the Badger, impressively, “that

leads from the river-bank, quite near here, right up into the middle of

Toad Hall.”

“O, nonsense! Badger,” said Toad, rather airily. “You’ve been listening

to some of the yarns they spin in the public-houses about here. I know

every inch of Toad Hall, inside and out. Nothing of the sort, I do

assure you!”

“My young friend,” said the Badger, with great severity, “your father,

who was a worthy animal—a lot worthier than some others I know—was a

particular friend of mine, and told me a great deal he wouldn’t have

dreamt of telling you. He discovered that passage—he didn’t make it, of

course; that was done hundreds of years before he ever came to live

there—and he repaired it and cleaned it out, because he thought it

might come in useful some day, in case of trouble or danger; and he

showed it to me. ‘Don’t let my son know about it,’ he said. ‘He’s a

good boy, but very light and volatile in character, and simply cannot

hold his tongue. If he’s ever in a real fix, and it would be of use to

him, you may tell him about the secret passage; but not before.’”

The other animals looked hard at Toad to see how he would take it. Toad

was inclined to be sulky at first; but he brightened up immediately,

like the good fellow he was.

“Well, well,” he said; “perhaps I am a bit of a talker. A popular

fellow such as I am—my friends get round me—we chaff, we sparkle, we

tell witty stories—and somehow my tongue gets wagging. I have the gift

of conversation. I’ve been told I ought to have a _salon_, whatever

that may be. Never mind. Go on, Badger. How’s this passage of yours

going to help us?”

“I’ve found out a thing or two lately,” continued the Badger. “I got

Otter to disguise himself as a sweep and call at the back-door with

brushes over his shoulder, asking for a job. There’s going to be a big

banquet to-morrow night. It’s somebody’s birthday—the Chief Weasel’s, I

believe—and all the weasels will be gathered together in the

dining-hall, eating and drinking and laughing and carrying on,

suspecting nothing. No guns, no swords, no sticks, no arms of any sort

whatever!”

“But the sentinels will be posted as usual,” remarked the Rat.

“Exactly,” said the Badger; “that is my point. The weasels will trust

entirely to their excellent sentinels. And that is where the passage

comes in. That very useful tunnel leads right up under the butler’s

pantry, next to the dining-hall!”

“Aha! that squeaky board in the butler’s pantry!” said Toad. “Now I

understand it!”

“We shall creep out quietly into the butler’s pantry—” cried the Mole.

“—with our pistols and swords and sticks—” shouted the Rat.

“—and rush in upon them,” said the Badger.

“—and whack ’em, and whack ’em, and whack ’em!” cried the Toad in

ecstasy, running round and round the room, and jumping over the chairs.

“Very well, then,” said the Badger, resuming his usual dry manner, “our

plan is settled, and there’s nothing more for you to argue and squabble

about. So, as it’s getting very late, all of you go right off to bed at

once. We will make all the necessary arrangements in the course of the

morning to-morrow.”

Toad, of course, went off to bed dutifully with the rest—he knew better

than to refuse—though he was feeling much too excited to sleep. But he

had had a long day, with many events crowded into it; and sheets and

blankets were very friendly and comforting things, after plain straw,

and not too much of it, spread on the stone floor of a draughty cell;

and his head had not been many seconds on his pillow before he was

snoring happily. Naturally, he dreamt a good deal; about roads that ran

away from him just when he wanted them, and canals that chased him and

caught him, and a barge that sailed into the banqueting-hall with his

week’s washing, just as he was giving a dinner-party; and he was alone

in the secret passage, pushing onwards, but it twisted and turned round

and shook itself, and sat up on its end; yet somehow, at the last, he

found himself back in Toad Hall, safe and triumphant, with all his

friends gathered round about him, earnestly assuring him that he really

was a clever Toad.

He slept till a late hour next morning, and by the time he got down he

found that the other animals had finished their breakfast some time

before. The Mole had slipped off somewhere by himself, without telling

any one where he was going to. The Badger sat in the arm-chair, reading

the paper, and not concerning himself in the slightest about what was

going to happen that very evening. The Rat, on the other hand, was

running round the room busily, with his arms full of weapons of every

kind, distributing them in four little heaps on the floor, and saying

excitedly under his breath, as he ran, “Here’s-a-sword-for-the-Rat,

here’s-a-sword-for-the Mole, here’s-a-sword-for-the-Toad,

here’s-a-sword-for-the-Badger! Here’s-a-pistol-for-the-Rat,

here’s-a-pistol-for-the-Mole, here’s-a-pistol-for-the-Toad,

here’s-a-pistol-for-the-Badger!” And so on, in a regular, rhythmical

way, while the four little heaps gradually grew and grew.

“That’s all very well, Rat,” said the Badger presently, looking at the

busy little animal over the edge of his newspaper; “I’m not blaming

you. But just let us once get past the stoats, with those detestable

guns of theirs, and I assure you we shan’t want any swords or pistols.

We four, with our sticks, once we’re inside the dining-hall, why, we

shall clear the floor of all the lot of them in five minutes. I’d have

done the whole thing by myself, only I didn’t want to deprive you

fellows of the fun!”

“It’s as well to be on the safe side,” said the Rat reflectively,

polishing a pistol-barrel on his sleeve and looking along it.

The Toad, having finished his breakfast, picked up a stout stick and

swung it vigorously, belabouring imaginary animals. “I’ll learn ’em to

steal my house!” he cried. “I’ll learn ’em, I’ll learn ’em!”

“Don’t say ‘learn ’em,’ Toad,” said the Rat, greatly shocked. “It’s not

good English.”

“What are you always nagging at Toad for?” inquired the Badger, rather

peevishly. “What’s the matter with his English? It’s the same what I

use myself, and if it’s good enough for me, it ought to be good enough

for you!”

“I’m very sorry,” said the Rat humbly. “Only I _think_ it ought to be

‘teach ’em,’ not ‘learn ’em.’”

“But we don’t _want_ to teach ’em,” replied the Badger. “We want to

_learn_ ’em—learn ’em, learn ’em! And what’s more, we’re going to _do_

it, too!”

“Oh, very well, have it your own way,” said the Rat. He was getting

rather muddled about it himself, and presently he retired into a

corner, where he could be heard muttering, “Learn ’em, teach ’em, teach

’em, learn ’em!” till the Badger told him rather sharply to leave off.

Presently the Mole came tumbling into the room, evidently very pleased

with himself. “I’ve been having such fun!” he began at once; “I’ve been

getting a rise out of the stoats!”

“I hope you’ve been very careful, Mole?” said the Rat anxiously.

“I should hope so, too,” said the Mole confidently. “I got the idea

when I went into the kitchen, to see about Toad’s breakfast being kept

hot for him. I found that old washerwoman-dress that he came home in

yesterday, hanging on a towel-horse before the fire. So I put it on,

and the bonnet as well, and the shawl, and off I went to Toad Hall, as

bold as you please. The sentries were on the look-out, of course, with

their guns and their ‘Who comes there?’ and all the rest of their

nonsense. ‘Good morning, gentlemen!’ says I, very respectful. ‘Want any

washing done to-day?’

“They looked at me very proud and stiff and haughty, and said, ‘Go

away, washerwoman! We don’t do any washing on duty.’ ‘Or any other

time?’ says I. Ho, ho, ho! Wasn’t I _funny_, Toad?”

“Poor, frivolous animal!” said Toad, very loftily. The fact is, he felt

exceedingly jealous of Mole for what he had just done. It was exactly

what he would have liked to have done himself, if only he had thought

of it first, and hadn’t gone and overslept himself.

“Some of the stoats turned quite pink,” continued the Mole, “and the

Sergeant in charge, he said to me, very short, he said, ‘Now run away,

my good woman, run away! Don’t keep my men idling and talking on their

posts.’ ‘Run away?’ says I; ‘it won’t be me that’ll be running away, in

a very short time from now!’”

“O _Moly_, how could you?” said the Rat, dismayed.

The Badger laid down his paper.

“I could see them pricking up their ears and looking at each other,”

went on the Mole; “and the Sergeant said to them, ‘Never mind _her;_

she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’”

“‘O! don’t I?’” said I. “‘Well, let me tell you this. My daughter, she

washes for Mr. Badger, and that’ll show you whether I know what I’m

talking about; and _you’ll_ know pretty soon, too! A hundred

bloodthirsty badgers, armed with rifles, are going to attack Toad Hall

this very night, by way of the paddock. Six boatloads of Rats, with

pistols and cutlasses, will come up the river and effect a landing in

the garden; while a picked body of Toads, known at the Die-hards, or

the Death-or-Glory Toads, will storm the orchard and carry everything

before them, yelling for vengeance. There won’t be much left of you to

wash, by the time they’ve done with you, unless you clear out while you

have the chance!’ Then I ran away, and when I was out of sight I hid;

and presently I came creeping back along the ditch and took a peep at

them through the hedge. They were all as nervous and flustered as could

be, running all ways at once, and falling over each other, and every

one giving orders to everybody else and not listening; and the Sergeant

kept sending off parties of stoats to distant parts of the grounds, and

then sending other fellows to fetch ’em back again; and I heard them

saying to each other, ‘That’s just like the weasels; they’re to stop

comfortably in the banqueting-hall, and have feasting and toasts and

songs and all sorts of fun, while we must stay on guard in the cold and

the dark, and in the end be cut to pieces by bloodthirsty Badgers!”’

“Oh, you silly ass, Mole!” cried Toad, “You’ve been and spoilt

everything!”

“Mole,” said the Badger, in his dry, quiet way, “I perceive you have

more sense in your little finger than some other animals have in the

whole of their fat bodies. You have managed excellently, and I begin to

have great hopes of you. Good Mole! Clever Mole!”

The Toad was simply wild with jealousy, more especially as he couldn’t

make out for the life of him what the Mole had done that was so

particularly clever; but, fortunately for him, before he could show

temper or expose himself to the Badger’s sarcasm, the bell rang for

luncheon.

It was a simple but sustaining meal—bacon and broad beans, and a

macaroni pudding; and when they had quite done, the Badger settled

himself into an arm-chair, and said, “Well, we’ve got our work cut out

for us to-night, and it will probably be pretty late before we’re quite

through with it; so I’m just going to take forty winks, while I can.”

And he drew a handkerchief over his face and was soon snoring.

The anxious and laborious Rat at once resumed his preparations, and

started running between his four little heaps, muttering,

“Here’s-a-belt-for-the-Rat, here’s-a-belt-for-the-Mole,

here’s-a-belt-for-the-Toad, here’s-a-belt-for-the-Badger!” and so on,

with every fresh accoutrement he produced, to which there seemed really

no end; so the Mole drew his arm through Toad’s, led him out into the

open air, shoved him into a wicker chair, and made him tell him all his

adventures from beginning to end, which Toad was only too willing to

do. The Mole was a good listener, and Toad, with no one to check his

statements or to criticise in an unfriendly spirit, rather let himself

go. Indeed, much that he related belonged more properly to the category

of what-might-have-happened-had-I-only-thought-of-it-in-time-instead-of

ten-minutes-afterwards. Those are always the best and the raciest

adventures; and why should they not be truly ours, as much as the

somewhat inadequate things that really come off?