The Tale of Mr. Tod | Page 6

such a sudden jerk that it
nearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.
[Illustration]
Inside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of a
pail rolling over and over.
But no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listened
attentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping
from the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.
In the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattened
something--much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it
(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanket
and it was not snoring any longer.
There was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop
drip of water trickling from the mattress.

[Illustration]
Mr. Tod watched it for half an hour; his eyes glistened.
Then he cut a caper, and became so bold that he even tapped at the
window; but the bundle never moved.
Yes--there was no doubt about it--it had turned out even better than he
had planned; the pail had hit poor old Tommy Brock, and killed him
dead!
"I will bury that nasty person in the hole which he has dug. I will bring
my bedding out, and dry it in the sun," said Mr. Tod.
"I will wash the tablecloth and spread it on the grass in the sun to
bleach. And the blanket must be hung up in the wind; and the bed must
be thoroughly disinfected, and aired with a warming-pan; and warmed
with a hot-water bottle."
[Illustration]
"I will get soft soap, and monkey soap, and all sorts of soap; and soda
and scrubbing brushes; and persian powder; and carbolic to remove the
smell. I must have a disinfecting. Perhaps I may have to burn sulphur."
He hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--"First I
will arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the blanket...."
He opened the door....
Tommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea
from Mr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry
himself and grinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr.
Tod.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]

Then Mr. Tod rushed upon Tommy Brock, and Tommy Brock grappled
with Mr. Tod amongst the broken crockery, and there was a terrific
battle all over the kitchen. To the rabbits underneath it sounded as if the
floor would give way at each crash of falling furniture.
They crept out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and
bushes, listening anxiously.
[Illustration]
Inside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the oven
woke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.
Everything was upset except the kitchen table.
And everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchen
fender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.
The chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,
and there were handfuls of Mr. Tod's sandy whiskers.
The vases fell off the mantelpiece, the canisters fell off the shelf; the
kettle fell off the hob. Tommy Brock put his foot in a jar of raspberry
jam.
And the boiling water out of the kettle fell upon the tail of Mr. Tod.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
When the kettle fell, Tommy Brock, who was still grinning, happened
to be uppermost; and he rolled Mr. Tod over and over like a log, out at
the door.
Then the snarling and worrying went on outside; and they rolled over
the bank, and down hill, bumping over the rocks. There will never be
any love lost between Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.

[Illustration]
As soon as the coast was clear, Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny came
out of the bushes--
"Now for it! Run in, Cousin Benjamin! Run in and get them! while I
watch at the door."
But Benjamin was frightened--
"Oh; oh! they are coming back!"
"No they are not."
"Yes they are!"
"What dreadful bad language! I think they have fallen down the stone
quarry."
Still Benjamin hesitated, and Peter kept pushing him--
"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so that
he won't miss them."
Decidedly there were lively doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!
[Illustration]
At home in the rabbit hole, things had not been quite comfortable.
After quarrelling at supper, Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had passed a
sleepless night, and quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr. Bouncer
could no longer deny that he had invited company into the rabbit hole;
but he refused to reply to the questions and reproaches of Flopsy. The
day passed heavily.
Old Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was huddled up in a corner, barricaded
with