The Wind in the Willows
bottles were certainly flung, and _from_ steamers, so presumably _by_
them; and about herons, and how particular they were whom they spoke
to; and about adventures down drains, and night-fishings with Otter, or
excursions far a-field with Badger. Supper was a most cheerful meal;
but very shortly afterwards a terribly sleepy Mole had to be escorted
upstairs by his considerate host, to the best bedroom, where he soon
laid his head on his pillow in great peace and contentment, knowing
that his new-found friend the River was lapping the sill of his window.
This day was only the first of many similar ones for the emancipated
Mole, each of them longer and full of interest as the ripening summer
moved onward. He learnt to swim and to row, and entered into the joy of
running water; and with his ear to the reed-stems he caught, at
intervals, something of what the wind went whispering so constantly
among them.
II.
THE OPEN ROAD
“Ratty,” said the Mole suddenly, one bright summer morning, “if you
please, I want to ask you a favour.”
The Rat was sitting on the river bank, singing a little song. He had
just composed it himself, so he was very taken up with it, and would
not pay proper attention to Mole or anything else. Since early morning
he had been swimming in the river, in company with his friends the
ducks. And when the ducks stood on their heads suddenly, as ducks will,
he would dive down and tickle their necks, just under where their chins
would be if ducks had chins, till they were forced to come to the
surface again in a hurry, spluttering and angry and shaking their
feathers at him, for it is impossible to say quite _all_ you feel when
your head is under water. At last they implored him to go away and
attend to his own affairs and leave them to mind theirs. So the Rat
went away, and sat on the river bank in the sun, and made up a song
about them, which he called
“DUCKS’ DITTY.”
All along the backwater,
Through the rushes tall,
Ducks are a-dabbling,
Up tails all!
Ducks’ tails, drakes’ tails,
Yellow feet a-quiver,
Yellow bills all out of sight
Busy in the river!
Slushy green undergrowth
Where the roach swim—
Here we keep our larder,
Cool and full and dim.
Everyone for what he likes!
_We_ like to be
Heads down, tails up,
Dabbling free!
High in the blue above
Swifts whirl and call—
_We_ are down a-dabbling
Uptails all!
“I don’t know that I think so _very_ much of that little song, Rat,”
observed the Mole cautiously. He was no poet himself and didn’t care
who knew it; and he had a candid nature.
“Nor don’t the ducks neither,” replied the Rat cheerfully. “They say,
‘_Why_ can’t fellows be allowed to do what they like _when_ they like
and _as_ they like, instead of other fellows sitting on banks and
watching them all the time and making remarks and poetry and things
about them? What _nonsense_ it all is!’ That’s what the ducks say.”
“So it is, so it is,” said the Mole, with great heartiness.
“No, it isn’t!” cried the Rat indignantly.
“Well then, it isn’t, it isn’t,” replied the Mole soothingly. “But what
I wanted to ask you was, won’t you take me to call on Mr. Toad? I’ve
heard so much about him, and I do so want to make his acquaintance.”
“Why, certainly,” said the good-natured Rat, jumping to his feet and
dismissing poetry from his mind for the day. “Get the boat out, and
we’ll paddle up there at once. It’s never the wrong time to call on
Toad. Early or late he’s always the same fellow. Always good-tempered,
always glad to see you, always sorry when you go!”
“He must be a very nice animal,” observed the Mole, as he got into the
boat and took the sculls, while the Rat settled himself comfortably in
the stern.
“He is indeed the best of animals,” replied Rat. “So simple, so
good-natured, and so affectionate. Perhaps he’s not very clever—we
can’t all be geniuses; and it may be that he is both boastful and
conceited. But he has got some great qualities, has Toady.”
Rounding a bend in the river, they came in sight of a handsome,
dignified old house of mellowed red brick, with well-kept lawns
reaching down to the water’s edge.
“There’s Toad Hall,” said the Rat; “and that creek on the left, where
the notice-board says, ‘Private. No landing allowed,’ leads to his
boat-house, where we’ll leave the boat. The stables are over there to
the right. That’s the banqueting-hall you’re looking at now—very old,
that is. Toad is rather rich, you know, and this is really one of the
nicest houses in these parts, though we never admit as much to Toad.”
They glided up the creek, and the Mole shipped his sculls as they
passed into the shadow of a large boat-house. Here they saw many
handsome boats, slung from the cross beams or hauled up on a slip, but
none in the water; and the place had an unused and a deserted air.
The Rat looked around him. “I understand,” said he. “Boating is played
out. He’s tired of it, and done with it. I wonder what new fad he has
taken up now? Come along and let’s look him up. We shall hear all about
it quite soon enough.”
They disembarked, and strolled across the gay flower-decked lawns in
search of Toad, whom they presently happened upon resting in a wicker
garden-chair, with a pre-occupied expression of face, and a large map
spread out on his knees.
“Hooray!” he cried, jumping up on seeing them, “this is splendid!” He
shook the paws of both of them warmly, never waiting for an
introduction to the Mole. “How _kind_ of you!” he went on, dancing
round them. “I was just going to send a boat down the river for you,
Ratty, with strict orders that you were to be fetched up here at once,
whatever you were doing. I want you badly—both of you. Now what will
you take? Come inside and have something! You don’t know how lucky it
is, your turning up just now!”
“Let’s sit quiet a bit, Toady!” said the Rat, throwing himself into an
easy chair, while the Mole took another by the side of him and made
some civil remark about Toad’s “delightful residence.”
“Finest house on the whole river,” cried Toad boisterously. “Or
anywhere else, for that matter,” he could not help adding.
Here the Rat nudged the Mole. Unfortunately the Toad saw him do it, and
turned very red. There was a moment’s painful silence. Then Toad burst
out laughing. “All right, Ratty,” he said. “It’s only my way, you know.
And it’s not such a very bad house, is it? You know you rather like it
yourself. Now, look here. Let’s be sensible. You are the very animals I
wanted. You’ve got to help me. It’s most important!”
“It’s about your rowing, I suppose,” said the Rat, with an innocent
air. “You’re getting on fairly well, though you splash a good bit
still. With a great deal of patience, and any quantity of coaching, you
may——”
“O, pooh! boating!” interrupted the Toad, in great disgust. “Silly
boyish amusement. I’ve given that up _long_ ago. Sheer waste of time,
that’s what it is. It makes me downright sorry to see you fellows, who
ought to know better, spending all your energies in that aimless
manner. No, I’ve discovered the real thing, the only genuine occupation
for a life time. I propose to devote the remainder of mine to it, and
can only regret the wasted years that lie behind me, squandered in
trivialities. Come with me, dear Ratty, and your amiable friend also,
if he will be so very good, just as far as the stable-yard, and you
shall see what you shall see!”
He led the way to the stable-yard accordingly, the Rat following with a
most mistrustful expression; and there, drawn out of the coach house
into the open, they saw a gipsy caravan, shining with newness, painted
a canary-yellow picked out with green, and red wheels.
“There you are!” cried the Toad, straddling and expanding himself.
“There’s real life for you, embodied in that little cart. The open
road, the dusty highway, the heath, the common, the hedgerows, the
rolling downs! Camps, villages, towns, cities! Here to-day, up and off
to somewhere else to-morrow! Travel, change, interest, excitement! The
whole world before you, and a horizon that’s always changing! And mind!
this is the very finest cart of its sort that was ever built, without
any exception. Come inside and look at the arrangements. Planned ’em
all myself, I did!”
The Mole was tremendously interested and excited, and followed him
eagerly up the steps and into the interior of the caravan. The Rat only
snorted and thrust his hands deep into his pockets, remaining where he
was.
It was indeed very compact and comfortable. Little sleeping bunks—a
little table that folded up against the wall—a cooking-stove, lockers,
bookshelves, a bird-cage with a bird in it; and pots, pans, jugs and
kettles of every size and variety.
“All complete!” said the Toad triumphantly, pulling open a locker. “You
see—biscuits, potted lobster, sardines—everything you can possibly
want. Soda-water here—baccy there—letter-paper, bacon, jam, cards and
dominoes—you’ll find,” he continued, as they descended the steps again,
“you’ll find that nothing what ever has been forgotten, when we make
our start this afternoon.”
“I beg your pardon,” said the Rat slowly, as he chewed a straw, “but
did I overhear you say something about ‘_we_,’ and ‘_start_,’ and
‘_this afternoon?_’”
“Now, you dear good old Ratty,” said Toad, imploringly, “don’t begin
talking in that stiff and sniffy sort of way, because you know you’ve
_got_ to come. I can’t possibly manage without you, so please consider
it settled, and don’t argue—it’s the one thing I can’t stand. You
surely don’t mean to stick to your dull fusty old river all your life,
and just live in a hole in a bank, and _boat?_ I want to show you the
world! I’m going to make an _animal_ of you, my boy!”
“I don’t care,” said the Rat, doggedly. “I’m not coming, and that’s
flat. And I _am_ going to stick to my old river, _and_ live in a hole,
_and_ boat, as I’ve always done. And what’s more, Mole’s going to stick
to me and do as I do, aren’t you, Mole?”
“Of course I am,” said the Mole, loyally. “I’ll always stick to you,
Rat, and what you say is to be—has got to be. All the same, it sounds
as if it might have been—well, rather fun, you know!” he added,
wistfully. Poor Mole! The Life Adventurous was so new a thing to him,
and so thrilling; and this fresh aspect of it was so tempting; and he
had fallen in love at first sight with the canary-coloured cart and all
its little fitments.
The Rat saw what was passing in his mind, and wavered. He hated
disappointing people, and he was fond of the Mole, and would do almost
anything to oblige him. Toad was watching both of them closely.
“Come along in, and have some lunch,” he said, diplomatically, “and
we’ll talk it over. We needn’t decide anything in a hurry. Of course,
_I_ don’t really care. I only want to give pleasure to you fellows.
‘Live for others!’ That’s my motto in life.”
During luncheon—which was excellent, of course, as everything at Toad
Hall always was—the Toad simply let himself go. Disregarding the Rat,
he proceeded to play upon the inexperienced Mole as on a harp.
Naturally a voluble animal, and always mastered by his imagination, he
painted the prospects of the trip and the joys of the open life and the
roadside in such glowing colours that the Mole could hardly sit in his
chair for excitement. Somehow, it soon seemed taken for granted by all
three of them that the trip was a settled thing; and the Rat, though
still unconvinced in his mind, allowed his good-nature to over-ride his
personal objections. He could not bear to disappoint his two friends,
who were already deep in schemes and anticipations, planning out each
day’s separate occupation for several weeks ahead.
When they were quite ready, the now triumphant Toad led his companions