'He did YOU awfully well!' rejoined the Badger hotly. 'However,
talking won't mend matters. He's got clear away for the time, that's
certain; and the worst of it is, he'll be so conceited with what he'll
think is his cleverness that he may commit any folly. One comfort is,
we're free now, and needn't waste any more of our precious time doing
sentry-go. But we'd better continue to sleep at Toad Hall for a while
longer. Toad may be brought back at any moment--on a stretcher, or
between two policemen.'
So spoke the Badger, not knowing what the future held in store, or how
much water, and of how turbid a character, was to run under bridges
before Toad should sit at ease again in his ancestral Hall.
Meanwhile, Toad, gay and irresponsible, was walking briskly along the
high road, some miles from home. At first he had taken by-paths, and
crossed many fields, and changed his course several times, in case of
pursuit; but now, feeling by this time safe from recapture, and the
sun smiling brightly on him, and all Nature joining in a chorus of
approval to the song of self-praise that his own heart was singing to
him, he almost danced along the road in his satisfaction and conceit.
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