Brett Patterson

“Oh pooh! Boating!” interrupted the Toad in great disgust. “Silly boyish amusement. I’ve given that up long ago. Sheer waste of time, that’s what it is. It makes me downright sorry to see you fellows, who ought to know better, spending all your energies in that aimless manner. No, I’ve discovered the real thing, the only genuine occupation for a lifetime. I propose to devote the remainder of mine to it, and can only regret the wasted years that lie behind me, squandered in trivialities. Come with me, dear Ratty, and you amiable friend also, if he will be so very good, just as far as the stable-yard, and you shall see what you shall see!”

He led the way to the stable-yard accordingly, the Rat following with a most mistrustful expression; and there, drawn out of the coach-house into the open, they saw a gipsy caravan, shining with newness, painted a canary-yellow picked out with green, and red wheels.

“There you are!” cried the Toad, straddling and expanding himself, “there’s real life for you, embodied in that little cart. The open road, the dusty highway, the heath, the common, the hedgerow, the rolling downs! Camps, villages, towns, cities!”

He led the way to the stable-yard accordingly, the Rat following with a most mistrustful expression; and there, drawn out of the coach-house into the open, they saw a gipsy caravan, shining with newness, painted a canary-yellow picked out with green, and red wheels.

“There you are!” cried the Toad, straddling and expanding himself, “there’s real life for you, embodied in that little cart. The open road, the dusty highway, the heath, the common, the hedgerow, the rolling downs! Camps, villages, towns, cities!”