When Toad found himself immured in a dank and noisome dungeon,
and knew that all the grim darkness of a medieval fortress lay
between him and the outer world of sunshine and well-metalled
high roads where he had lately been so happy, disporting himself
as if he had bought up every road in England, he flung himself at
full length on the floor, and shed bitter tears, and abandoned
himself to dark despair. ‘This is the end of everything' (he
said), ‘at least it is the end of the career of Toad, which is
the same thing; the popular and handsome Toad, the rich and
hospitable Toad, the Toad so free and careless and debonair! How
can I hope to be ever set at large again' (he said), ‘who have
been imprisoned so justly for stealing so handsome a motor-car in
such an audacious manner, and for such lurid and
imaginative cheek, bestowed upon such a number of fat, red-faced
policemen!' (Here his sobs choked him.) ‘Stupid animal that I
was' (he said), ‘now I must languish in this dungeon, till people
who were proud to say they knew me, have forgotten the very name
of Toad! O wise old Badger!' (he said), ‘O clever, intelligent
Rat and sensible Mole! What sound judgments, what a knowledge of
men and matters you possess! O unhappy and forsaken Toad!' With
lamentations such as these he passed his days and nights for
several weeks, refusing his meals or intermediate light
refreshments, though the grim and ancient gaoler, knowing that
Toad's pockets were well lined, frequently pointed out that many
comforts, and indeed luxuries, could by arrangement be sent in--
at a price--from outside.
Now the gaoler had a daughter, a pleasant wench and good-hearted,
who assisted her father in the lighter duties of his post. She
was particularly fond of animals, and, besides her canary, whose
cage hung on a nail in the massive wall of the keep by day, to
the great annoyance of prisoners who relished an afterdinner
nap, and was shrouded in an antimacassar on the parlour table at
night, she kept several piebald mice and a restless revolving
squirrel. This kind-hearted girl, pitying the misery of Toad,
said to her father one day, ‘Father! I can't bear to see that
poor beast so unhappy, and getting so thin! You let me have the
managing of him. You know how fond of animals I am. I'll make
him eat from my hand, and sit up, and do all sorts of things.'
Her father replied that she could do what she liked with him. He
was tired of Toad, and his sulks and his airs and his meanness.
So that day she went on her errand of mercy, and knocked at the
door of Toad's cell.
‘Now, cheer up, Toad,' she said, coaxingly, on entering, ‘and sit
up and dry your eyes and be a sensible animal. And do try and
eat a bit of dinner. See, I've brought you some of mine, hot
from the oven!'
It was bubble-and-squeak, between two plates, and its fragrance
filled the narrow cell. The penetrating smell of cabbage reached
the nose of Toad as he lay prostrate in his misery on the floor,
and gave him the idea for a moment that perhaps life was not such
a blank and desperate thing as he had imagined. But still
he wailed, and kicked with his legs, and refused to be comforted.
So the wise girl retired for the time, but, of course, a good
deal of the smell of hot cabbage remained behind, as it will do,
and Toad, between his sobs, sniffed and reflected, and gradually
began to think new and inspiring thoughts: of chivalry, and
poetry, and deeds still to be done; of broad meadows, and cattle
browsing in them, raked by sun and wind; of kitchen-gardens, and
straight herb-borders, and warm snap-dragon beset by bees; and of
the comforting clink of dishes set down on the table at Toad
Hall, and the scrape of chair-legs on the floor as every one
pulled himself close up to his work. The air of the narrow cell
took a rosy tinge; he began to think of his friends, and how they
would surely be able to do something; of lawyers, and how they
would have enjoyed his case, and what an ass he had been not to
get in a few; and lastly, he thought of his own great cleverness
and resource, and all that he was capable of if he only gave his
great mind to it; and the cure was almost complete.
When the girl returned, some hours later, she carried a
tray, with a cup of fragrant tea steaming on it; and a plate
piled up with very hot buttered toast, cut thick, very brown on
both sides, with the butter running through the holes in it in
great golden drops, like honey from the honeycomb. The smell of
that buttered toast simply talked to Toad, and with no uncertain
voice; talked of warm kitchens, of breakfasts on bright frosty
mornings, of cosy parlour firesides on winter evenings, when
one's ramble was over and slippered feet were propped on the
fender; of the purring of contented cats, and the twitter of
sleepy canaries. Toad sat up on end once more, dried his eyes,
sipped his tea and munched his toast, and soon began talking
freely about himself, and the house he lived in, and his doings
there, and how important he was, and what a lot his friends
thought of him.
The gaoler's daughter saw that the topic was doing him as much
good as the tea, as indeed it was, and encouraged him to go on.
‘Tell me about Toad Hall," said she. ‘It sounds beautiful.'
‘Toad Hall,' said the Toad proudly, ‘is an eligible self-
contained gentleman's residence very unique; dating in part
from the fourteenth century, but replete with every modern
convenience. Up-to-date sanitation. Five minutes from church,
post-office, and golf-links, Suitable for----'
‘Bless the animal,' said the girl, laughing, ‘I don't want to
TAKE it. Tell me something REAL about it. But first wait
till I fetch you some more tea and toast.'
She tripped away, and presently returned with a fresh trayful;
and Toad, pitching into the toast with avidity, his spirits quite
restored to their usual level, told her about the boathouse, and
the fish-pond, and the old walled kitchen-garden; and about the
pig-styes, and the stables, and the pigeon-house, and the hen-
house; and about the dairy, and the wash-house, and the china-
cupboards, and the linen-presses (she liked that bit especially);
and about the banqueting-hall, and the fun they had there when
the other animals were gathered round the table and Toad was at
his best, singing songs, telling stories, carrying on generally.
Then she wanted to know about his animal-friends, and was very
interested in all he had to tell her about them and how they
lived, and what they did to pass their time. Of course, she
did not say she was fond of animals as PETS, because she had
the sense to see that Toad would be extremely offended. When she
said good night, having filled his water-jug and shaken up his
straw for him, Toad was very much the same sanguine, self-
satisfied animal that he had been of old. He sang a little song
or two, of the sort he used to sing at his dinner-parties, curled
himself up in the straw, and had an excellent night's rest and
the pleasantest of dreams.
They had many interesting talks together, after that, as the
dreary days went on; and the gaoler's daughter grew very sorry
for Toad, and thought it a great shame that a poor little animal
should be locked up in prison for what seemed to her a very
trivial offence. Toad, of course, in his vanity, thought that
her interest in him proceeded from a growing tenderness; and he
could not help half-regretting that the social gulf between them
was so very wide, for she was a comely lass, and evidently
admired him very much.
One morning the girl was very thoughtful, and answered at random,
and did not seem to Toad to be paying proper attention to
his witty sayings and sparkling comments.
‘Toad,' she said presently, ‘just listen, please. I have an aunt
who is a washerwoman.'
‘There, there,' said Toad, graciously and affably, ‘never mind;
think no more about it. _I_ have several aunts who OUGHT to
be washerwomen.'
‘Do be quiet a minute, Toad,' said the girl. ‘You talk too much,
that's your chief fault, and I'm trying to think, and you hurt my
head. As I said, I have an aunt who is a washerwoman; she does
the washing for all the prisoners in this castle--we try to keep
any paying business of that sort in the family, you understand.
She takes out the washing on Monday morning, and brings it in on
Friday evening. This is a Thursday. Now, this is what occurs to
me: you're very rich--at least you're always telling me so--and
she's very poor. A few pounds wouldn't make any difference to
you, and it would mean a lot to her. Now, I think if she were
properly approached--squared, I believe is the word you animals
use--you could come to some arrangement by which she would let
you have her dress and bonnet and so on, and you could
escape from the castle as the official washerwoman. You're very
alike in many respects--particularly about the figure.'
‘We're NOT,' said the Toad in a huff. ‘I have a very elegant
figure--for what I am.'
‘So has my aunt,' replied the girl, ‘for what SHE is. But
have it your own way. You horrid, proud, ungrateful animal, when
I'm sorry for you, and trying to help you!'
‘Yes, yes, that's all right; thank you very much indeed,' said
the Toad hurriedly. ‘But look here! you wouldn't surely have Mr.
Toad of Toad Hall, going about the country disguised as a
washerwoman!'
‘Then you can stop here as a Toad,' replied the girl with much
spirit. ‘I suppose you want to go off in a coach-and-four!'
Honest Toad was always ready to admit himself in the wrong. ‘You
are a good, kind, clever girl,' he said, ‘and I am indeed a proud
and a stupid toad. Introduce me to your worthy aunt, if you will
be so kind, and I have no doubt that the excellent lady and I
will be able to arrange terms satisfactory to both parties.'
Next evening the girl ushered her aunt into Toad's cell,
bearing his week's washing pinned up in a towel. The old lady
had been prepared beforehand for the interview, and the sight of
certain gold sovereigns that Toad had thoughtfully placed on the
table in full view practically completed the matter and left
little further to discuss. In return for his cash, Toad received
a cotton print gown, an apron, a shawl, and a rusty black bonnet;
the only stipulation the old lady made being that she should be
gagged and bound and dumped down in a corner. By this not very
convincing artifice, she explained, aided by picturesque fiction
which she could supply herself, she hoped to retain her
situation, in spite of the suspicious appearance of things.
Toad was delighted with the suggestion. It would enable him to
leave the prison in some style, and with his reputation for being
a desperate and dangerous fellow untarnished; and he readily
helped the gaoler's daughter to make her aunt appear as much as
possible the victim of circumstances over which she had no
control.
‘Now it's your turn, Toad,' said the girl. ‘Take off that coat
and waistcoat of yours; you're fat enough as it is.'
Shaking with laughter, she proceeded to ‘hook-and-eye' him into
the cotton print gown, arranged the shawl with a professional
fold, and tied the strings of the rusty bonnet under his chin.
‘You're the very image of her,' she giggled, ‘only I'm sure you
never looked half so respectable in all your life before. Now,
good-bye, Toad, and good luck. Go straight down the way you came
up; and if any one says anything to you, as they probably will,
being but men, you can chaff back a bit, of course, but remember
you're a widow woman, quite alone in the world, with a character
to lose.'
With a quaking heart, but as firm a footstep as he could command,
Toad set forth cautiously on what seemed to be a most hare-
brained and hazardous undertaking; but he was soon agreeably
surprised to find how easy everything was made for him, and a
little humbled at the thought that both his popularity, and the
sex that seemed to inspire it, were really another's. The
washerwoman's squat figure in its familiar cotton print seemed a
passport for every barred door and grim gateway; even when he
hesitated, uncertain as to the right turning to take, he
found himself helped out of his difficulty by the warder at the
next gate, anxious to be off to his tea, summoning him to come
along sharp and not keep him waiting there all night. The chaff
and the humourous sallies to which he was subjected, and to
which, of course, he had to provide prompt and effective reply,
formed, indeed, his chief danger; for Toad was an animal with a
strong sense of his own dignity, and the chaff was mostly (he
thought) poor and clumsy, and the humour of the sallies entirely
lacking. However, he kept his temper, though with great
difficulty, suited his retorts to his company and his supposed
character, and did his best not to overstep the limits of good
taste.
It seemed hours before he crossed the last courtyard, rejected
the pressing invitations from the last guardroom, and dodged the
outspread arms of the last warder, pleading with simulated
passion for just one farewell embrace. But at last he heard the
wicket-gate in the great outer door click behind him, felt the
fresh air of the outer world upon his anxious brow, and knew that
he was free!
Dizzy with the easy success of his daring exploit, he walked
quickly towards the lights of the town, not knowing in the least
what he should do next, only quite certain of one thing, that he
must remove himself as quickly as possible from the neighbourhood
where the lady he was forced to represent was so well-known and
so popular a character.
As he walked along, considering, his attention was caught by some
red and green lights a little way off, to one side of the town,
and the sound of the puffing and snorting of engines and the
banging of shunted trucks fell on his ear. ‘Aha!' he thought,
‘this is a piece of luck! A railway station is the thing I want
most in the whole world at this moment; and what's more, I
needn't go through the town to get it, and shan't have to support
this humiliating character by repartees which, though thoroughly
effective, do not assist one's sense of self-respect.'
He made his way to the station accordingly, consulted a time-
table, and found that a train, bound more or less in the
direction of his home, was due to start in half-an-hour. ‘More
luck!' said Toad, his spirits rising rapidly, and went off to the
booking-office to buy his ticket.
He gave the name of the station that he knew to be nearest to the
village of which Toad Hall was the principal feature, and
mechanically put his fingers, in search of the necessary money,
where his waiscoat pocket should have been. But here the cotton
gown, which had nobly stood by him so far, and which he had
basely forgotten, intervened, and frustrated his efforts. In a
sort of nightmare he struggled with the strange uncanny thing
that seemed to hold his hands, turn all muscular strivings to
water, and laugh at him all the time; while other travellers,
forming up in a line behind, waited with impatience, making
suggestions of more or less value and comments of more or less
stringency and point. At last--somehow--he never rightly
understood how--he burst the barriers, attained the goal, arrived
at where all waistcoat pockets are eternally situated, and
found--not only no money, but no pocket to hold it, and no
waistcoat to hold the pocket!
To his horror he recollected that he had left both coat and
waistcoat behind him in his cell, and with them his pocket-book,
money, keys, watch, matches, pencil-case--all that makes life
worth living, all that distinguishes the many-pocketed
animal, the lord of creation, from the inferior one-pocketed or
no-pocketed productions that hop or trip about permissively,
unequipped for the real contest.
In his misery he made one desperate effort to carry the thing
off, and, with a return to his fine old manner--a blend of the
Squire and the College Don--he said, ‘Look here! I find I've
left my purse behind. Just give me that ticket, will you, and
I'll send the money on to-morrow? I'm well-known in these
parts.'
The clerk stared at him and the rusty black bonnet a moment, and
then laughed. ‘I should think you were pretty well known in
these parts,' he said, ‘if you've tried this game on often.
Here, stand away from the window, please, madam; you're
obstructing the other passengers!'
An old gentleman who had been prodding him in the back for some
moments here thrust him away, and, what was worse, addressed him
as his good woman, which angered Toad more than anything that had
occurred that evening.
Baffled and full of despair, he wandered blindly down the
platform where the train was standing, and tears trickled down
each side of his nose. It was hard, he thought, to be
within sight of safety and almost of home, and to be baulked by
the want of a few wretched shillings and by the pettifogging
mistrustfulness of paid officials. Very soon his escape would be
discovered, the hunt would be up, he would be caught, reviled,
loaded with chains, dragged back again to prison and bread-and-
water and straw; his guards and penalities would be doubled; and
O, what sarcastic remarks the girl would make! What was to be
done? He was not swift of foot; his figure was unfortunately
recognisable. Could he not squeeze under the seat of a carriage?
He had seen this method adopted by schoolboys, when the journey-
money provided by thoughtful parents had been diverted to other
and better ends. As he pondered, he found himself opposite the
engine, which was being oiled, wiped, and generally caressed by
its affectionate driver, a burly man with an oil-can in one hand
and a lump of cotton-waste in the other.
‘Hullo, mother!' said the engine-driver, ‘what's the trouble?
You don't look particularly cheerful.'
‘O, sir!' said Toad, crying afresh, ‘I am a poor unhappy
washerwoman, and I've lost all my money, and can't pay for a
ticket, and I must get home to-night somehow, and whatever I am
to do I don't know. O dear, O dear!'
‘That's a bad business, indeed,' said the engine-driver
reflectively. ‘Lost your money--and can't get home--and got some
kids, too, waiting for you, I dare say?'
‘Any amount of 'em,' sobbed Toad. ‘And they'll be hungry--and
playing with matches--and upsetting lamps, the little
innocents!--and quarrelling, and going on generally. O dear, O
dear!'
‘Well, I'll tell you what I'll do,' said the good engine-driver.
‘You're a washerwoman to your trade, says you. Very well, that's
that. And I'm an engine-driver, as you well may see, and there's
no denying it's terribly dirty work. Uses up a power of shirts,
it does, till my missus is fair tired of washing of 'em. If
you'll wash a few shirts for me when you get home, and send 'em
along, I'll give you a ride on my engine. It's against the
Company's regulations, but we're not so very particular in these
out-of-the-way parts.'
The Toad's misery turned into rapture as he eagerly
scrambled up into the cab of the engine. Of course, he had never
washed a shirt in his life, and couldn't if he tried and, anyhow,
he wasn't going to begin; but he thought: ‘When I get safely home
to Toad Hall, and have money again, and pockets to put it in, I
will send the engine-driver enough to pay for quite a quantity of
washing, and that will be the same thing, or better.'
The guard waved his welcome flag, the engine-driver whistled in
cheerful response, and the train moved out of the station. As
the speed increased, and the Toad could see on either side of him
real fields, and trees, and hedges, and cows, and horses, all
flying past him, and as he thought how every minute was bringing
him nearer to Toad Hall, and sympathetic friends, and money to
chink in his pocket, and a soft bed to sleep in, and good things
to eat, and praise and admiration at the recital of his
adventures and his surpassing cleverness, he began to skip up and
down and shout and sing snatches of song, to the great
astonishment of the engine-driver, who had come across
washerwomen before, at long intervals, but never one at all like
this.
They had covered many and many a mile, and Toad was already
considering what he would have for supper as soon as he got home,
when he noticed that the engine-driver, with a puzzled expression
on his face, was leaning over the side of the engine and
listening hard. Then he saw him climb on to the coals and gaze
out over the top of the train; then he returned and said to Toad:
‘It's very strange; we're the last train running in this
direction to-night, yet I could be sworn that I heard another
following us!'
Toad ceased his frivolous antics at once. He became grave and
depressed, and a dull pain in the lower part of his spine,
communicating itself to his legs, made him want to sit down and
try desperately not to think of all the possibilities.
By this time the moon was shining brightly, and the engine-
driver, steadying himself on the coal, could command a view of
the line behind them for a long distance.
Presently he called out, ‘I can see it clearly now! It is an
engine, on our rails, coming along at a great pace! It looks as
if we were being pursued!'
The miserable Toad, crouching in the coal-dust, tried hard
to think of something to do, with dismal want of success.
‘They are gaining on us fast!' cried the engine-driver. And the
engine is crowded with the queerest lot of people! Men like
ancient warders, waving halberds; policemen in their helmets,
waving truncheons; and shabbily dressed men in pot-hats, obvious
and unmistakable plain-clothes detectives even at this distance,
waving revolvers and walking-sticks; all waving, and all shouting
the same thing--"Stop, stop, stop!"'
Then Toad fell on his knees among the coals and, raising his
clasped paws in supplication, cried, ‘Save me, only save me, dear
kind Mr. Engine-driver, and I will confess everything! I am not
the simple washerwoman I seem to be! I have no children waiting
for me, innocent or otherwise! I am a toad--the well-known and
popular Mr. Toad, a landed proprietor; I have just escaped, by my
great daring and cleverness, from a loathsome dungeon into which
my enemies had flung me; and if those fellows on that engine
recapture me, it will be chains and bread-and-water and straw and
misery once more for poor, unhappy, innocent Toad!'
The engine-driver looked down upon him very sternly, and said,
‘Now tell the truth; what were you put in prison for?'
‘It was nothing very much,' said poor Toad, colouring deeply. ‘I
only borrowed a motorcar while the owners were at lunch; they had
no need of it at the time. I didn't mean to steal it, really;
but people--especially magistrates--take such harsh views of
thoughtless and high-spirited actions.'
The engine-driver looked very grave and said, ‘I fear that you
have been indeed a wicked toad, and by rights I ought to give you
up to offended justice. But you are evidently in sore trouble
and distress, so I will not desert you. I don't hold with motor-
cars, for one thing; and I don't hold with being ordered about by
policemen when I'm on my own engine, for another. And the sight
of an animal in tears always makes me feel queer and softhearted.
So cheer up, Toad! I'll do my best, and we may beat them yet!'
They piled on more coals, shovelling furiously; the furnace
roared, the sparks flew, the engine leapt and swung but still
their pursuers slowly gained. The engine-driver, with a sigh,
wiped his brow with a handful of cotton-waste, and said,
‘I'm afraid it's no good, Toad. You see, they are running light,
and they have the better engine. There's just one thing left for
us to do, and it's your only chance, so attend very carefully to
what I tell you. A short way ahead of us is a long tunnel, and
on the other side of that the line passes through a thick wood.
Now, I will put on all the speed I can while we are running
through the tunnel, but the other fellows will slow down a bit,
naturally, for fear of an accident. When we are through, I will
shut off steam and put on brakes as hard as I can, and the moment
it's safe to do so you must jump and hide in the wood, before
they get through the tunnel and see you. Then I will go full
speed ahead again, and they can chase me if they like, for as
long as they like, and as far as they like. Now mind and be
ready to jump when I tell you!'
They piled on more coals, and the train shot into the tunnel, and
the engine rushed and roared and rattled, till at last they shot
out at the other end into fresh air and the peaceful moonlight,
and saw the wood lying dark and helpful upon either side of the
line. The driver shut off steam and put on brakes, the Toad
got down on the step, and as the train slowed down to almost a
walking pace he heard the driver call out, ‘Now, jump!'
Toad jumped, rolled down a short embankment, picked himself up
unhurt, scrambled into the wood and hid.
Peeping out, he saw his train get up speed again and disappear at
a great pace. Then out of the tunnel burst the pursuing engine,
roaring and whistling, her motley crew waving their various
weapons and shouting, ‘Stop! stop! stop!' When they were past,
the Toad had a hearty laugh--for the first time since he was
thrown into prison.
But he soon stopped laughing when he came to consider that it was
now very late and dark and cold, and he was in an unknown wood,
with no money and no chance of supper, and still far from friends
and home; and the dead silence of everything, after the roar and
rattle of the train, was something of a shock. He dared not
leave the shelter of the trees, so he struck into the wood, with
the idea of leaving the railway as far as possible behind him.
After so many weeks within walls, he found the wood strange
and unfriendly and inclined, he thought, to make fun of him.
Night-jars, sounding their mechanical rattle, made him think that
the wood was full of searching warders, closing in on him. An
owl, swooping noiselessly towards him, brushed his shoulder with
its wing, making him jump with the horrid certainty that it was a
hand; then flitted off, moth-like, laughing its low ho! ho! ho;
which Toad thought in very poor taste. Once he met a fox, who
stopped, looked him up and down in a sarcastic sort of way, and
said, ‘Hullo, washerwoman! Half a pair of socks and a pillow-
case short this week! Mind it doesn't occur again!' and
swaggered off, sniggering. Toad looked about for a stone to
throw at him, but could not succeed in finding one, which vexed
him more than anything. At last, cold, hungry, and tired out, he
sought the shelter of a hollow tree, where with branches and dead
leaves he made himself as comfortable a bed as he could, and
slept soundly till the morning.
IX