“I dare say it is, ma’am!” responded Toad politely, as he walked along the tow-path abreast of her. “I dare it is a nice morning to them that’s not in sore trouble, like what I am. Here’s my married daughter, she sends off to me post-haste to come to her at once; so off I comes, not knowing what may be happening or going to happen, but fearing the worst, as you will understand, ma’am, if you’re a mother, too. And I’ve left my business to look after itself—I’m in the washing and laundering line, you must know, ma’am—and I’ve left my young children to look after themselves, and a more mischievous and troublesome set of young imps doesn’t exist, ma’am; and I’ve lost all my money, and lost my way, and as for what may be happening to my married daughter, why, I don’t like to think of it, ma’am!”
“Where might your married daughter be living, ma’am?” asked the barge-woman.
“She lives near to the river, ma’am,” replied Toad. “Close to a fine house called Toad Hall, that’s somewheres hereabouts in these parts. Perhaps you may have heard of it.”
“Toad Hall? Why, I’m going that way myself,” replied the barge-woman. “This canal joins the river some miles further on, a little above Toad Hall; and then it’s an easy walk. You come along in the barge with me, and I’ll give you a lift.”
She steered the barge close to the bank, and Toad, with many humble and grateful acknowledgments, stepped lightly on board and sat down with great satisfaction. “Toad’s luck again!” thought he. “I always come out on top!”
“So you’re in the washing business, ma’am?” said the barge-woman politely, as they glided along. “And a very good business you’ve got too, I dare say, if I’m not making too free in saying so.”
“Finest business in the whole country,” said Toad airily. “All the gentry come to me—wouldn’t go to any one else if they were paid, they know me so well. You see, I understand my work thoroughly, and attend to it all myself. Washing, ironing, clear-starching, making up gents’ fine shirts for evening wear—everything’s done under my own eye!”
“But surely you don’t do all that work yourself, ma’am?” asked the barge-woman respectfully.
“O, I have girls,” said Toad lightly: “twenty girls or thereabouts, always at work. But you know what girls are, ma’am! Nasty little hussies, that’s what I call ’em!”
“So do I, too,” said the barge-woman with great heartiness. “But I dare say you set yours to rights, the idle trollops! And are you very fond of washing?”