h
him, they had got ahead of him. His pleasant dream was shattered.

"Mayn't I sing them just one _little_ song?" he pleaded piteously.

"No, not _one_ little song," replied the Rat firmly, though his heart
bled as he noticed the trembling lip of the poor disappointed Toad.
"It's no good, Toady; you know well that your songs are all conceit
and boasting and vanity; and your speeches are all self-praise
and--and--well, and gross exaggeration and--and--"

"And gas," put in the Badger, in his common way.

"It's for your own good, Toady," went on the Rat. "You know you _must_
turn over a new leaf sooner or later, and now seems a splendid time to
begin; a sort of turning-point in your career. Please don't think that
saying all this doesn't hurt me more than it hurts you."

Toad remained a long while plunged in thought. At last he raised his
head, and the traces of strong emotion were visible on his features.
"You have conquered, my friends," he said in broken accents. "It was,
to be sure, but a small thing that I asked--merely leave to blossom
and expand for yet one more evening, to let myself go and hear the
tumultuous applause that always seems to me--somehow--to bring out my
best qualities. However, you are right, I know, and I am wrong.
Henceforth I will be a very different Toad. My friends, you shall
never have occasion to blush for me again. But, O dear, O dear, this
is a hard world!"

And, pressing his handkerchief to his face, he left the room, with
faltering footsteps.

"Badger," said the Rat, "I feel like a brute; I wonder what _you_ feel
like?"

"O, I know, I know," said the Badger gloomily. "But the thing had to
be done. This good fellow has got to live here, and hold his own, and
be respected. Would you have him a common laughing-stock, mocked and
jeered at by stoats and weasels?"

"Of course not," said the Rat. "And, talking of weasels, it's lucky we
came upon that little weasel, just as he was setting out with Toad's
invitations. I suspected something from what you told me, and had a
look at one or two; they were simply disgraceful. I confiscated the
lot, and the good Mole is now sitting in the blue _boudoir_, filling
up plain, simple invitation cards."

* * * * *

At last the hour for the banquet began to draw near, and Toad, who on
leaving the others had retired to his bedroom, was still sitting
there, melancholy and thoughtful. His brow resting on his paw, he
po