The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame (black male authors txt) 📕

it was all the fault of the Chief Weasel and the stoats, and if ever they could do anything for us at any time to make up, we had only got to mention it. So I gave them a roll apiece, and let them out at the back, and off they ran, as hard as they could!”

Then the Mole pulled his chair up to the table, and pitched into the cold tongue; and Toad, like the gentleman he was, put all his jealousy from him, and said heartily, “Thank you kindly, dear Mole, for all your pains and trouble tonight, and especially for your cleverness this morning!” The Badger was pleased at that, and said, “There spoke my brave Toad!” So they finished their supper in great joy and contentment, and presently retired to rest between clean sheets, safe in Toad’s ancestral home, won back by matchless valour, consummate strategy, and a proper handling of sticks.

The following morning, Toad, who had overslept himself as usual, came down to breakfast disgracefully late, and found on the table a certain quantity of eggshells, some fragments of cold and leathery toast, a coffeepot three-fourths empty, and really very little else; which did not tend to improve his temper, considering that, after all, it was his own house. Through the French windows of the breakfast-room he could see the Mole and the Water Rat sitting in wicker chairs out on the lawn, evidently telling each other stories; roaring with laughter and kicking their short legs up in the air. The Badger, who was in an armchair and deep in the morning paper, merely looked up and nodded when Toad entered the room. But Toad knew his man, so he sat down and made the best breakfast he could, merely observing to himself that he would get square with the others sooner or later. When he had nearly finished, the Badger looked up and remarked rather shortly: “I’m sorry, Toad, but I’m afraid there’s a heavy morning’s work in front of you. You see, we really ought to have a Banquet at once, to celebrate this affair. It’s expected of you⁠—in fact, it’s the rule.”

“O, all right!” said the Toad, readily. “Anything to oblige. Though why on earth you should want to have a Banquet in the morning I cannot understand. But you know I do not live to please myself, but merely to find out what my friends want, and then try and arrange it for ’em, you dear old Badger!”

“Don’t pretend to be stupider than you really are,” replied the Badger, crossly; “and don’t chuckle and splutter in your coffee while you’re talking; it’s not manners. What I mean is, the Banquet will be at night, of course, but the invitations will have to be written and got off at once, and you’ve got to write ’em. Now sit down at that table⁠—there’s stacks of letter-paper on it, with ‘Toad Hall’ at the top in blue and gold⁠—and write invitations to all our friends, and if you stick to it we shall get them out before luncheon. And I’ll bear a hand, too, and take my share of the burden. I’ll order the Banquet.”

“What!” cried Toad, dismayed. “Me stop indoors and write a lot of rotten letters on a jolly morning like this, when I want to go around my property and set everything and everybody to rights, and swagger about and enjoy myself! Certainly not! I’ll be⁠—I’ll see you⁠—Stop a minute, though! Why, of course, dear Badger! What is my pleasure or convenience compared with that of others! You wish it done, and it shall be done. Go, Badger, order the Banquet, order what you like; then join our young friends outside in their innocent mirth, oblivious of me and my cares and toils. I sacrifice this fair morning on the altar of duty and friendship!”

The Badger looked at him very suspiciously, but Toad’s frank, open countenance made it difficult to suggest any unworthy motive in this change of attitude. He quitted the room, accordingly, in the direction of the kitchen, and as soon as the door had closed behind him, Toad hurried to the writing-table. A fine idea had occurred to him while he was talking. He would write the invitations; and he would take care to mention the leading part he had taken in the fight, and how he had laid the Chief Weasel flat; and he would hint at his adventures, and what a career of triumph he had to tell about; and on the flyleaf he would set out a sort of a programme of entertainment for the evening⁠—something like this, as he sketched it out in his head:⁠—

Speech By Toad.

(There will be other speeches by Toad during the evening.)

Address By Toad.

Synopsis⁠—Our Prison System⁠—the Waterways of Old England⁠—Horse-dealing, and how to deal⁠—Property, its rights and its duties⁠—Back to the Land⁠—A Typical English Squire.

Song By Toad.

(Composed by himself.)

Other Compositions By Toad

will be sung in the course of the evening by the⁠ ⁠… Composer.

The idea pleased him mightily, 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 gentleman. 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