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 hazardousundertaking; 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 farewellembrace. 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 daringexploit, 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 eternallysituated, 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