`But what do the words mean?' asked the wondering Mole.
`That I do not know,' said the Rat simply. `I passed them on to

you as they reached me. Ah! now they return again, and this time
full and clear! This time, at last, it is the real, the

unmistakable thing, simple--passionate--perfect----'
`Well, let's have it, then,' said the Mole, after he had waited

patiently for a few minutes, half-dozing in the hot sun.
But no answer came. He looked, and understood the silence. With

a smile of much happiness on his face, and something of a
listening look still lingering there, the weary Rat was fast

asleep.
VIII

TOAD'S ADVENTURES
When Toad found himself immured in a dank and noisome dungeon,

and knew that all the grim darkness of a medievalfortress 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