Toad Triumphant (2 page)

“I shall not touch this craft!” he had cried out to the baffled gentleman who had guided it down-river to Toad Hall, already much surprised that a most strict condition of the sale included nocturnal and silent delivery. He was the more surprised because such a launch as this, of high quality and great expense, was normally used by explorers to unknown and dangerous parts, such as the upper reaches of the Amazon, or the crocodile-infested swamps of New Guinea, rather than the quiet and placid middle reaches of the River.

“Machines,” continued his eccentric client, “are no more for me! They have caused me too much misery in the past, and my friends too much trouble. The day, or night, I have need to use this powerful craft as a means of escape is that last day I shall be here at the Hall, and happy.”

“You will not be taking it out for pleasure purposes then, sir? It is to stay under wraps, unused and unenjoyed?”

“Indeed,” declared Toad. “For many years, I hope. But, alas, lesser and ordinary people such as yourself, or my butler here, do not quite understand that great personages such as myself make many enemies and must be prepared for the worst. Unjust accusers may seek me out, my enemies may desire to return me to gaol and unfair trial, and if they do only then shall I leap into this launch and embark upon the life of a fluvial fugitive!”

Toad meant it, every word. His days of tangling with the law were over and he was reformed, the secret craft to be used only in the event of past chickens coming home to roost.

It was with these thoughts uppermost, and now poised for flight, that he heard the footsteps cease, watched as the door to the garden opened and was relieved to see not ten arresting officers, but his good friend the harmless Mole.

“Toad!” said the Mole, coming forward at once. “Your butler suggested that you might not be pleased to see me, but when I explained —”

Toad was very pleased to see him, very pleased indeed, not so much because of who he was, but because of who he was not.

“My dear chap!” cried Toad, hopping about from one foot to another with relief and mopping his brow “I
am
happy to see you, even though I am feeling frail and weak after a hard morning’s work and ought not to receive guests. But —”

“I have come to ask your advice, Toad.”

Toad ceased speaking, but did not immediately close his mouth, so startled was he by the Mole’s words.

“Your advice, Toad: I need it,” repeated the Mole persistently, thinking perhaps that his friend had suddenly been taken ill. Not only was his mouth agape, but his eyes had taken on a glazed and bulging look.

“Advice?” he gasped, trying to remember a single occasion when anyone had asked for his advice. For his money, yes. His time, that too. Various of his possessions, certainly. But his advice? Never.

It did not take Toad long to recover from the shock, however.

“My dear Mole,” he said robustly, “there are certainly many things I might advise you on, for you are but a modest fellow with a very limited experience of life who is no doubt uncertain of himself in many ways. Whereas I, Toad of Toad Hall, naturally have a very great deal of good advice which I am ready and willing to offer on most subjects.

“But before you inform me of the matter that concerns you, pray sit down. Make yourself comfortable while I lie down again, for my back aches a little and I must rest —”

“Shall I fetch tea for your guest and yourself, sir?” offered the butler, grasping the first opportunity he could to interrupt his master’s torrent of words.

“Tea? Of course, fetch tea,” said Toad cheerfully. “A capital idea, eh Mole? But let our tea be accompanied by something more fortifying, for Mr Mole looks as if he needs it. Champagne, I think.”

“No, really, Toad; not so early in the day!” said the Mole as the butler set off about his work.

“Nonsense, Mole, you need a little comfort in your life. My first piece of advice to you is to enjoy life more, and to move from those miserable quarters of yours at Mole End and —”

“But I like my home,” said the Mole quietly, looking uneasily about the many windows, doors, embayments and wings of Toad’s great place. “It takes little looking after and provides me with everything I need.”

“Each to his own, I suppose; but what other advice can I offer you?”

“Well, I — I was hoping — I was thinking that perhaps —” began the Mole, clearly very much concerned by something he found hard to address.

“You have had my advice on the matter of your general comfort,” interrupted Toad, not really wanting to listen at all and preferring the sound of his own voice to that of Mole’s; “now perhaps I may add to that with some advice concerning your friends.”

“My friends?” repeated the Mole, much surprised.

Such friends as he had — and he counted Toad among them — were very long established and he could not imagine how Toad might “add” anything to the subject. Yet the Mole knew Toad very well, very well indeed, and he had half expected some such interview as this, in which Toad would do most of the talking and he most of the listening. But then again, the Mole had nowhere else to turn for advice and counsel upon the particular matter that worried him, and perhaps if he sat patiently for long enough Toad would run out of steam.

For Mole was worried, very worried indeed. So much so that as Toad began to launch forth on the subject of friends the Mole felt the same inexplicable malaise that had afflicted him for some weeks past come over him again, and though the afternoon was the finest yet that year, and tea was on its way, and Toad for all his faults had welcomed him and was striving to make him feel comfortable and at ease — despite all that, the Mole felt tears well up; and not for the first time in the past few days.

“O dear! O dear!” he muttered to himself, rising up to advance past Toad to the edge of the terrace to view the estate, so that Toad could not see him make a fool of himself. “O my! O my!”

Oblivious as always, Toad carried on talking behind him, on and on, for which the Mole was grateful, for he felt his normal stability and calmness begin to return.

“Eh, Mole? And what do you say to that?” concluded Toad, thinking that the Mole had heard and understood every word.

The Mole dabbed at his eyes and sniffed a little to regain his composure. “I’m sorry, Toad, I was admiring the view and missed the last part of what you said.”

“I was saying, Mole, I was suggesting, in fact I was
advising
that you should widen your acquaintance beyond that very limited circle which I believe it presently comprises, namely Ratty, Badger and Otter.”

“There is also my Nephew,” said the Mole rather feebly, feeling that he was very lucky to have such good friends and kin as these, very lucky indeed, and he had no need of more: “They are really very good to me.”

“Good to you! Pooh! You are good to
them!
I have nothing against Ratty or Badger, of course I do not, and as for your Nephew I dare say he has been of some service to you —”

“And to you as well, Toad, I believe —” the Mole could not help adding, for he knew well that Nephew had been of great help to Toad in the rebuilding of the Hall, successfully representing him on delicate matters with such people as builders and architects where one or other of the parties affected had been upset and affronted; matters in which Toad was quite incapable of representing himself without compounding matters for the worse.

“Yes, your Nephew has certainly benefited from my tutelage, Mole, and I’m gratified that you mention it, for I may say that I am not so immodest as to do so myself. I believe, too, he has acted on my advice from time to time, which is no doubt why you have come here today to ask for my help and counsel?”

“Er, yes —” began the Mole, not quite happy to put such a construction on matters, but willing enough to concede the point if it meant he was offered the listening ear he so desperately needed.

“Well then,” said Toad at last, “and what is it that’s troubling you?”

“Well —” essayed the Mole, “there
has
been something that has worried me lately, worried me very much, and I am most grateful that you are willing to listen to me, for it may really seem rather inconsequential to one such as yourself, but to me —”

It was unfortunate, most unfortunate in the event, that it was just at this moment, which it had taken the Mole so long to reach (for his planned interview with Toad had been many days in the making, and it had required a good deal of courage on his part to make the trek from Mole End to Toad Hall and ring the bell), that the butler returned with tea.

His arrival put a stop to further conversation, for there are few things in the world more certain to remind gentlefolk of the fact that if all is not well now it very soon will be, than the sight of a well-trained English butler emerging onto the sunny garden terrace of a gentleman’s residence, bearing a brass—handled tray bedecked with the many items that make for a successful open-air tea.

Such items, if properly prepared and portered, jingle and tinkle, twinkle and shine, as if to announce their approach, and all the cups and saucers, the silver spoons and the sugar bowl, the steaming hot water and the shining strainer, the teapot and the plate of delicate sandwiches — all seem to combine and say as one, “Let your worries cease for now; the world is aright again!” And in the welcome pouring of the tea and the delightful crunch of the cucumber and cress sandwiches, not to mention the promise of the coming cakes and the possible surprise of strawberries and cream to follow, all else is held at bay: the past is forgotten, the future does not exist, and all is peace.

Such was the effect of the arrival of tea upon Toad and Mole. Toad ceased his prattle while Mole put aside his still unspoken difficulties, and both tucked in.

When talk resumed, it was about inconsequential things such as Mr Toad’s new butler, by whom the Mole was much impressed.

“I am glad you think so, Mole, for you are certainly right. Prendergast is one of the finest butlers in all the land and has turned down offers of employment from Earls, Dukes and possibly Kings so that he may serve me. Such are the perquisites deriving from the fame and general respect that Toad of Toad Hall is able to command —”

For this was indeed that same Prendergast who had once been in the employ of no less a personage than the High Judge himself in his great residence east of the Town, in whose welcome confines Toad had once been a fraudulent guest. On that occasion, some two years earlier, which had to do with a trifling matter of a flying machine and a glass—shattering descent by parachute into His Lordship’s hothouse, a curious bond of affection and friendship had grown up between Toad and His Lordship’s butler (now former butler) Prendergast.

Nobody, in society or out of it, had been more surprised and delighted than Toad when his advertisement in
The Times
for a manservant had attracted a reply from his old friend — as he thought of him. He naturally, but wrongly, assumed that Prendergast had applied for the post out of respect and the honourable prospect of serving a gentleman as noble, and as famous, as himself. But this was not quite the case.

The plain fact was that Prendergast had come into a small inheritance from a relative in Australia and though he had no desire to be idle and unemployed, his zest for serving Lords and Ladies of the genuine kind had waned after a quarter of a century in their service at the highest levels. Now he could pick and choose, and, examining the columns under “Menservants” in that august organ one day, he had been astonished and delighted to see that there was a vacancy at Toad Hall.

Prendergast had many qualities, not all of them quite as conservative as the greatest of butlers generally aspire to.

In this respect the qualities that Toad’s advertisement had excited were those of adventure, change, and good humour. He had never forgotten Toad’s arrival at His Lordship’s residence, nor the pleasures that came with serving one who was without doubt more vain and self-centred than any he had served before — and one who did that which Lords and Ladies too rarely did: bravely made a fool of himself and, shrugging off one disaster, promptly created another.