Hi,
This is Stefania,
And we're back with another part of The Wind in the Willows.
This chapter is called Mr.
Badger.
If you remember,
They were standing in the snow,
Stomping their feet,
Waiting for that door to be opened.
And it was.
They waited patiently for what seemed a very long time,
Stamping in the snow to keep their feet warm.
At last,
They heard the sound of slow,
Shuffling footsteps approaching the door from the inside.
It seemed,
As the mole remarked to the rat,
Like someone walking in carpet slippers that were too large for him and down at the heel.
Which was intelligent of Mole,
Because that's exactly what it was.
There was the noise of a bolt shot back,
And the door opened a few inches,
Enough to show a long snout and a pair of sleepy,
Blinking eyes.
Now,
The very next time this happens,
Said a gruff and suspicious voice,
I shall be exceedingly angry.
Who is it this time,
Disturbing people on such a night?
Speak up.
Oh,
Badger.
Cry the rat,
Let us in,
Please.
It's me,
Rat,
And my friend Mole,
And we've lost our way in the snow.
What?
Ratty,
My dear little man.
Exclaimed the Badger in quite a different voice.
Come along in,
Both of you,
At once,
Or you must be perished.
Well,
I never lost in the snow,
And in the wild wood too,
And at this time of night.
But come in with you.
The two animals tumbled over each other in their eagerness to get inside,
And heard the doors shut behind them with great joy and relief.
The Badger,
Who wore a long dressing gown and whose slippers were indeed very down at the heel,
Carried a flat candlestick in his paw and had probably been on his way to bed when their summons sounded.
He looked kindly down on them and patted both their heads.
This is not the sort of night for small animals to be out,
He said paternally.
I'm afraid you've been up to some of your pranks again,
Ratty.
But come along,
Come into the kitchen.
There's a first-rate fire there and supper and everything.
He shuffled on in front of them,
Carrying the light,
And they followed him,
Nudging each other in an anticipating sort of way,
Down a long,
Gloomy,
And to tell the truth,
Decidedly shabby passage,
Into a sort of central hall,
Out of which they could dimly see other long,
Tunnel-like passages branching,
Passages mysterious and without apparent end.
But there were doors in the hall as well,
Stout,
Oaken,
Comfortable-looking doors.
One of these the Badger flung open and at once they found themselves in all the glow and warmth of a large,
Fire-lit kitchen.
The floor was well-worn red brick and on the wide hearth-front,
A fire of longs between two attractive chimney corners tucked away in the wall,
Well out of any suspicion of drought.
A couple of high-backed settles,
Facing each other on either side of the fire,
Gave further sitting accommodations for the socially disposed.
In the middle of the room stood a long table of plain boards placed on trestles,
With benches down each side.
At one end of it,
Where an armchair stood pushed back,
Were spread the remains of Badger's plain but ample supper.
Rows of spotless plates winked from the shelves of the dresser at the far end of the room and from the rafters overhead hung patterns,
Bundles of dried herbs,
Nets of onions,
And baskets of eggs.
It seemed a place where heroes could fittingly feast after victory.
Where weary harvesters could line up in scores along the table and keep their harvest home with mirth and song.
Or where two or three friends of simple tastes could sit about as they pleased and eat and smoke and talk in comfort and contentment.
The ruddy brick floor smiled up at the smoky ceiling.
The yoking settles,
Shiny with long wear,
Exchanged cheerful glances with each other.
Plates on the dresser grinned at pots on the shelf and the merry firelight flickered and played over everything without distinction.
The kindly Badger thrust them down on a settle to toast themselves at the fire and bathed them,
Removed their wet coats and boots.
Then he fetched them dressing gowns and slippers and himself bathed the mole's shin with warm water and mended the cut with sticking plaster till the whole thing was as good as new,
If not better.
In the embracing light and warmth,
Warm and dry at last,
With weary legs propped up in front of them and a suggestive clink of plates being arranged on the table behind,
It seemed to the storm-driven animals now in safe anchorage that the cold and trackless wild wood just left our side was miles and miles away and all that they had suffered in it a half-forgotten dream.
When at last they were thoroughly toasted,
The Badger summoned them to the table where he had been busy laying a riposte.
They had felt pretty hungry before but when they actually saw at last the supper that was spread for them,
Really,
It seemed only a question of what they should attack first where it was all so attractive and whether the other things would obligingly wait for them till they had time to give them attention.
Conversation was impossible for a long time and when it slowly resumed it was that regrettable sort of conversation that results from talking with your mouth full.
The Badger did not mind that sort of thing at all nor did he take any notice of elbows on the table or everybody speaking at once.
As he did not go into society himself,
He had got an idea that these things belonged to the things that didn't really matter.
We knew of course that he was wrong and took too narrow a view because they do matter very much,
Though it would take too long to explain why.
He sat in his armchair at the head of the table and nodded gravely at intervals as the animals told their story and he did not even seem surprised or shocked at anything and he never said,
I told you so or just what I always said or remarked that they ought to have done so and so or ought to not have done something else.
The Mole began to feel very friendly towards him.
When supper was really finished at last and each animal felt that his skin was now as tight as was decently safe and that by this time he didn't care a hang for anybody or anything,
They gathered around the glowing embers of the great wood fire and thought how jolly it was to be sitting up so late and so independent and so full and after they had chatted for a time about things in general the Badger said heartily,
Now then tell us the news from your part of the world.
How's old Toad getting on?
Oh from bad to worse,
Said the Rep gravely while the Mole cocked up on a settle and basking in the firelight,
His feet higher than his head,
Tried to look properly mournful.
Another smash-up only last week,
Not a bad one,
You see,
He will insist on driving himself and he's hopelessly incapable.
If he'd only employ a decent,
Steady,
Well-trained animal,
Pay him good wages and leave everything to him,
He'd get on all right,
No.
But no,
He's convinced he's a heaven-born driver and nobody can teach him anything and all the rest follows.
How many has he had,
Inquired the Badger gloomily.
Smashes or machines,
Asks the Rat.
Oh well,
After all it's the same thing with Toad.
This is the seventh.
As for the other,
You know that coach house of his?
Well,
It's piled up,
Literally piled up to the roof with fragments of Otakars,
None of them bigger than your hat.
That accounts for the other six,
As far as they can be accounted for.
He's been in the hospital three times,
Put in the mole,
And as for the fines he's had to pay,
It's simply awful to think of.
Yes,
And that's part of the trouble,
Continued the Rat.
Toad's rich for all we know,
But he's not a millionaire and he's a hopelessly bad driver and quite regardless of law and order.
Killed or ruined,
He's got to be one of those two things sooner or later.
Badger,
Where's friends?
Oughtn't we to do something?
The Badger went through a bit of hard thinking.
No,
Look here,
He said at last rather severely.
Of course you know I can't do anything now.
His two friends assented,
Quite understanding his point.
No animal,
According to the rules of animal etiquette,
Is ever expected to do anything strenuous or heroic or even moderately active during the off-season of winter.
All are sleepy.
Some actually sleep.
All are weather-bound,
More or less,
And all are resting from arduous days and nights during which every muscle in them has been severely tested and every energy kept at full stretch.
Very well then,
Continued the Badger,
But when once the year has really turned and the nights are shorter and halfway through them one rouses and feels fidgety and wanting to be up and doing by sunrise.
If not before,
You know.
Both animals nodded gravely.
They knew.
Well then,
Went on the Badger,
We,
That is,
You and me and our friend Mr.
Mole here,
Will take Toad seriously in hand.
We'll stand no-nonsense whatever.
We'll bring him back to reason by force if need be.
We'll make him be a sensible Toad.
Well,
You're asleep,
Rat.
Not me,
Said the Rat,
Waking up with a jerk.
He's been asleep two or three times since supper,
Said the Mole,
Laughing.
He himself was feeling quite wakeful and lively,
Though he didn't know why.
The reason was,
Of course,
That he,
Being naturally an underground animal by birth and breeding,
The situation of Badger's house exactly suited him and made him feel at home.
While the Rat,
Who slept every night in a bedroom,
The windows of which opened on a breezy river,
Naturally felt the atmosphere still and oppressive.
Well,
It's time we were all in bed,
Said the Badger,
Getting up and fetching flat candlesticks.
Come along,
You two,
And I'll show you to your quarters.
And take your time tomorrow morning.
Breakfast at any hour you please.
And that is the end of part one of the Badger episode.
We'll be back again very soon and we'll find out what happened.
Where did the three animals go from here?
And what are they going to do about Toad?
You'll have to wait and see.
So be good.
Sleep well.
