The Wind in the Willows
“And gas,” put in the Badger, in his common way.
“It’s for your own good, Toady,” went on the Rat. “You know you _must_
turn over a new leaf sooner or later, and now seems a splendid time to
begin; a sort of turning-point in your career. Please don’t think that
saying all this doesn’t hurt me more than it hurts you.”
Toad remained a long while plunged in thought. At last he raised his
head, and the traces of strong emotion were visible on his features.
“You have conquered, my friends,” he said in broken accents. “It was,
to be sure, but a small thing that I asked—merely leave to blossom and
expand for yet one more evening, to let myself go and hear the
tumultuous applause that always seems to me—somehow—to bring out my
best qualities. However, you are right, I know, and I am wrong. Hence
forth I will be a very different Toad. My friends, you shall never have
occasion to blush for me again. But, O dear, O dear, this is a hard
world!”
And, pressing his handkerchief to his face, he left the room, with
faltering footsteps.
“Badger,” said the Rat, “_I_ feel like a brute; I wonder what _you_
feel like?”
“O, I know, I know,” said the Badger gloomily. “But the thing had to be
done. This good fellow has got to live here, and hold his own, and be
respected. Would you have him a common laughing-stock, mocked and
jeered at by stoats and weasels?”
“Of course not,” said the Rat. “And, talking of weasels, it’s lucky we
came upon that little weasel, just as he was setting out with Toad’s
invitations. I suspected something from what you told me, and had a
look at one or two; they were simply disgraceful. I confiscated the
lot, and the good Mole is now sitting in the blue boudoir, filling up
plain, simple invitation cards.”
At last the hour for the banquet began to draw near, and Toad, who on
leaving the others had retired to his bedroom, was still sitting there,
melancholy and thoughtful. His brow resting on his paw, he pondered
long and deeply. Gradually his countenance cleared, and he began to
smile long, slow smiles. Then he took to giggling in a shy,
self-conscious manner. At last he got up, locked the door, drew the
curtains across the windows, collected all the chairs in the room and
arranged them in a semicircle, and took up his position in front of
them, swelling visibly. Then he bowed, coughed twice, and, letting
himself go, with uplifted voice he sang, to the enraptured audience
that his imagination so clearly saw.
TOAD’S LAST LITTLE SONG!
The Toad—came—home!
There was panic in the parlours and howling in the halls,
There was crying in the cow-sheds and shrieking in the stalls,
When the Toad—came—home!
When the Toad—came—home!
There was smashing in of window and crashing in of door,
There was chivvying of weasels that fainted on the floor,
When the Toad—came—home!
Bang! go the drums!
The trumpeters are tooting and the soldiers are saluting,
And the cannon they are shooting and the motor-cars are hooting,
As the—Hero—comes!
Shout—Hoo-ray!
And let each one of the crowd try and shout it very loud,
In honour of an animal of whom you’re justly proud,
For it’s Toad’s—great—day!
He sang this very loud, with great unction and expression; and when he
had done, he sang it all over again.
Then he heaved a deep sigh; a long, long, long sigh.
Then he dipped his hairbrush in the water-jug, parted his hair in the
middle, and plastered it down very straight and sleek on each side of
his face; and, unlocking the door, went quietly down the stairs to
greet his guests, who he knew must be assembling in the drawing-room.
All the animals cheered when he entered, and crowded round to
congratulate him and say nice things about his courage, and his
cleverness, and his fighting qualities; but Toad only smiled faintly,
and murmured, “Not at all!” Or, sometimes, for a change, “On the
contrary!” Otter, who was standing on the hearthrug, describing to an
admiring circle of friends exactly how he would have managed things had
he been there, came forward with a shout, threw his arm round Toad’s
neck, and tried to take him round the room in triumphal progress; but
Toad, in a mild way, was rather snubby to him, remarking gently, as he
disengaged himself, “Badger’s was the mastermind; the Mole and the
Water Rat bore the brunt of the fighting; I merely served in the ranks
and did little or nothing.” The animals were evidently puzzled and
taken aback by this unexpected attitude of his; and Toad felt, as he
moved from one guest to the other, making his modest responses, that he
was an object of absorbing interest to every one.
The Badger had ordered everything of the best, and the banquet was a
great success. There was much talking and laughter and chaff among the
animals, but through it all Toad, who of course was in the chair,
looked down his nose and murmured pleasant nothings to the animals on
either side of him. At intervals he stole a glance at the Badger and
the Rat, and always when he looked they were staring at each other with
their mouths open; and this gave him the greatest satisfaction. Some of
the younger and livelier animals, as the evening wore on, got
whispering to each other that things were not so amusing as they used
to be in the good old days; and there were some knockings on the table
and cries of “Toad! Speech! Speech from Toad! Song! Mr. Toad’s song!”
But Toad only shook his head gently, raised one paw in mild protest,
and, by pressing delicacies on his guests, by topical small-talk, and
by earnest inquiries after members of their families not yet old enough
to appear at social functions, managed to convey to them that this
dinner was being run on strictly conventional lines.
He was indeed an altered Toad!
After this climax, the four animals continued to lead their lives, so
rudely broken in upon by civil war, in great joy and contentment,
undisturbed by further risings or invasions. Toad, after due
consultation with his friends, selected a handsome gold chain and
locket set with pearls, which he dispatched to the gaoler’s daughter
with a letter that even the Badger admitted to be modest, grateful, and
appreciative; and the engine-driver, in his turn, was properly thanked
and compensated for all his pains and trouble. Under severe compulsion
from the Badger, even the barge-woman was, with some trouble, sought
out and the value of her horse discreetly made good to her; though Toad
kicked terribly at this, holding himself to be an instrument of Fate,
sent to punish fat women with mottled arms who couldn’t tell a real
gentleman when they saw one. The amount involved, it was true, was not
very burdensome, the gipsy’s valuation being admitted by local
assessors to be approximately correct.
Sometimes, in the course of long summer evenings, the friends would
take a stroll together in the Wild Wood, now successfully tamed so far
as they were concerned; and it was pleasing to see how respectfully
they were greeted by the inhabitants, and how the mother-weasels would
bring their young ones to the mouths of their holes, and say, pointing,
“Look, baby! There goes the great Mr. Toad! And that’s the gallant
Water Rat, a terrible fighter, walking along o’ him! And yonder comes
the famous Mr. Mole, of whom you so often have heard your father tell!”
But when their infants were fractious and quite beyond control, they
would quiet them by telling how, if they didn’t hush them and not fret
them, the terrible grey Badger would up and get them. This was a base
libel on Badger, who, though he cared little about Society, was rather
fond of children; but it never failed to have its full effect.