The Willows at Christmas by William Horwood Read Free Book Online Page A

top together.
    “Out you come, villains!” he said, rising up once more, and hoping the stoats and weasels had no more than a bruise or two apiece.
    But the sacking remained ominously still, the shapes of bodies inside it accentuated by the flickering flames of the nearby fire, and made all the more lurid by the rise of steam from the hessian.
    “I say, fellows,” said the Water Rat, “this may be more serious than we thought. You don’t think they have suffocated in there, do you?”
    At once the three animals knelt down to release the captives, pulling open the mouth of the sack still further.
    “Out you come!” ordered the Badger.
    “Out?” cried an enraged voice from within the wet and steamy sack. “Out? I’ll come out, all right!”
    Out he certainly came, the bruised, abused, battered and furious Mole, like a rabbit bolting from its hole. Up and at ‘em, safety pin and all!
    “Take that! And that! And that!” he yelled, stabbing, pricking, hitting and punching, lunging and digging and making as much use of his tiny arsenal of weapons as he could. A Viking frenzy was upon him, which was why he did not immediately see that it was his friends he was assaulting.
    “Have me for supper if you must!” he cried wildly. “But I shall fight and struggle all the way into the pot!”
    Their cries of alarm and pain did nothing to stop him, but rather spurred him on, till one by one they retreated — the Badger to his bedroom, the Rat to the kitchen and the Otter behind a chair. Only then did the Mole give pause to see with clearer eyes, and realise with growing astonishment that he was in the Badger’s sitting room.
    “Villains!” he shouted (for he naturally thought that the weasels and stoats had somehow gained access to the Badger’s home, and most likely had already eaten him for lunch). “Come out and show yourselves!”
    Then, most sheepishly, most apologetically, his three friends left their hiding places and stood before the Mole, the very picture of contrition.
    “But — but — but —” was all the astonished Mole could say, looking first at one and then another, then at the sacking by the fireside and the cooking pot, and finally understanding all.
    It was a long time before anybody dared speak. Finally, the Otter took it upon himself to attempt to mollify the aggrieved Mole.
    “Well, now,” he haplessly began, “I mean to say —”Best say nothing, old fellow,” said the still angry Mole softly, rubbing his many bruises. But then, with a twinkle in his eye, for he was never one to hold a grudge, and always the first to laugh at himself and put the best complexion on things, he said more gently, “Best say nothing at all.” Then, relaxing a little more, he said, “Do I not smell the heady scent of mulled wine?”
    “You shall have some at once, dear Mole,” said Ratty, hurrying to serve him.
    “And crumpets, too?”
    “I’ll toast and butter you some fresh ones right away’ said the Otter.
    “And comfortable chairs?”
    “Have mine, old fellow,” said the Badger without hesitation, though no animal in living memory had ever sat in his chair before.
    “Why, that’s most obliging,” said the Mole, sitting down with aplomb. “Very obliging. Ratty, perhaps you would be kind enough to charge my glass once more. And, Otter, I think that one more crumpet would go down well before I try that mushroom stew. O, and Badger, another cushion would — that’s right, just there, yes, aah — and while you’re at it, Badger, be a good chap and put another log on the fire.”
    Then a look of happy contentment came to him, and slowly to the others as well, as they began to enjoy that special peace and companionship that comes with the resolution of misunderstanding between good friends.

IV
    A Tale of
    Bleak Midwinter

    “It is a pity,” observed the Mole a little later, now calmed and comforted by food and drink, “that Toad is not here. I’m sure he would have enjoyed this