OTHER COMPOSITIONS. BY TOAD
will be sung in the course of the
evening by the... COMPOSER.
The idea pleased him mightly, and he worked very hard and got all
the letters finished by noon, at which hour it was reported to
him that there was a small and rather bedraggled weasel at the
door, inquiring timidly whether he could be of any service to the
gentlemen. Toad swaggered out and found it was one of the
prisoners of the previous evening, very respectful and
anxious to please. He patted him on the head, shoved the bundle
of invitations into his paw, and told him to cut along quick and
deliver them as fast as he could, and if he liked to come back
again in the evening, perhaps there might be a shilling for him,
or, again, perhaps there mightn't; and the poor weasel seemed
really quite grateful, and hurried off eagerly to do his mission.
When the other animals came back to luncheon, very boisterous and
breezy after a morning on the river, the Mole, whose conscience
had been pricking him, looked doubtfully at Toad, expecting to
find him sulky or depressed. Instead, he was so uppish and
inflated that the Mole began to suspect something; while the Rat
and the Badger exchanged significant glances.
As soon as the meal was over, Toad thrust his paws deep into his
trouser-pockets, remarked casually, ‘Well, look after yourselves,
you fellows! Ask for anything you want!' and was swaggering off
in the direction of the garden, where he wanted to think out an
idea or two for his coming speeches, when the Rat caught him by
the arm.
Toad rather suspected what he was after, and did his best to get
away; but when the Badger took him firmly by the other arm he
began to see that the game was up. The two animals conducted him
between them into the small smoking-room that opened out of the
entrance-hall, shut the door, and put him into a chair. Then
they both stood in front of him, while Toad sat silent and
regarded them with much suspicion and ill-humour.
‘Now, look here, Toad,' said the Rat. ‘It's about this Banquet,
and very sorry I am to have to speak to you like this. But we
want you to understand clearly, once and for all, that there are
going to be no speeches and no songs. Try and grasp the fact
that on this occasion we're not arguing with you; we're just
telling you.'
Toad saw that he was trapped. They understood him, they saw
through him, they had got ahead of him. His pleasant dream was
shattered.
‘Mayn't I sing them just one LITTLE song?' he pleaded
piteously.
‘No, not ONE little song,' replied the Rat firmly, though his
heart bled as he noticed the trembling lip of the poor
disappointed Toad. ‘It's no good, Toady; you know well that your
songs are all conceit and boasting and vanity; and your speeches
are all self-praise and--and--well, and gross exaggeration and--
and----'
‘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,