A Collection of Beatrix Potter Stories | Page 8

still

arguing in shrill tones.
She seemed to know her way, and she seemed to have a quantity of
luggage.
I am sure I never gave her leave to borrow my wheel-barrow!
They went into the barn, and hauled their parcels with a bit of string to
the top of the haymow.
After that, there were no more rats for a long time at Tabitha Twitchit's.
As for Farmer Potatoes, he has been driven nearly distracted. There are
rats, and rats, and rats in his barn! They eat up the chicken food, and
steal the oats and bran, and make holes in the meal bags.
And they are all descended from Mr. and Mrs. Samuel
Whiskers--children and grand-children and great great grand-children.
There is no end to them!
Moppet and Mittens have grown up into very good rat-catchers.
They go out rat-catching in the village, and they find plenty of
employment. They charge so much a dozen, and earn their living very
comfortably.
They hang up the rats' tails in a row or the barn door, to show how
many they have caught--dozens and dozens of them.
But Tom Kitten has always been afraid of a rat; he never durst face
anything that is bigger than--
A Mouse.

THE END

THE TALE OF MR. TOD
I HAVE made many books about well-behaved people. Now, for a
change, I am going to make a story about two disagreeable people,
called Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod. Nobody could call Mr. Tod "nice."
The rabbits could not bear him; they could smell him half a mile off.
He was of a wandering habit and he had foxey whiskers; they never
knew where he would be next.
One day he was living in a stick- house in the coppice, causing terror to
the family of old Mr. Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he moved into a
pollard willow near the lake, frightening the wild ducks and the water
rats.
In winter and early spring he might generally be found in an earth

amongst the rocks at the top of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.
He had half a dozen houses, but he was seldom at home.
The houses were not always empty when Mr. Tod moved OUT;
because sometimes Tommy Brock moved IN; (without asking leave).
Tommy Brock was a short bristly fat waddling person with a grin; he
grinned all over his face. He was not nice in his habits. He ate wasp
nests and frogs and worms; and he waddled about by moonlight,
digging things up.
His clothes were very dirty; and as he slept in the day-time, he always
went to bed in his boots. And the bed which he went to bed in, was
generally Mr. Tod's.
Now Tommy Brock did occasionally eat rabbit-pie; but it was only
very little young ones occasionally, when other food was really scarce.
He was friendly with old Mr. Bouncer; they agreed in disliking the
wicked otters and Mr. Tod; they often talked over that painful subject.
Old Mr. Bouncer was stricken in years. He sat in the spring sunshine
outside the burrow, in a muffler; smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.
He lived with his son Benjamin Bunny and his daughter-in-law Flopsy,
who had a young family. Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of the family
that afternoon, because Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.
The little rabbit-babies were just old enough to open their blue eyes and
kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow
burrow, separate from the main rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old Mr.
Bouncer had forgotten them.
He sat in the sun, and conversed cordially with Tommy Brock, who
was passing through the wood with a sack and a little spud which he
used for digging, and some mole traps. He complained bitterly about
the scarcity of pheasants' eggs, and accused Mr. Tod of poaching them.
And the otters had cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep in
winter--"I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living
on pig-nuts. I shall have to turn vegetarian and eat my own tail!" said
Tommy Brock.
It was not much of a joke, but it tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because
Tommy Brock was so fat and stumpy and grinning.
So old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside,
to taste a slice of seed-cake and "a glass of my daughter Flopsy's
cowslip wine." Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the rabbit hole

with alacrity.
Then old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a
cabbage leaf cigar which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock
grin more than ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old Mr. Bouncer
coughed and laughed; and Tommy