The Wind In The Willows – A Bedtime Story For Kids-Pt 2

It’s Sleep Story time again with a classic story about the friendship and adventures of four special animals Mole, Rat, Toad and Badger. The book is called “The Wind in the Willows” and it was written by Kenneth Grahame. This story was requested by an Insight Timer listener. Let’s continue the adventure now with part 2 and let’s start enjoy our journey to learn about friendship, adventure and the gift of helping others.
Ending Music from Freesound-SweetDreams

Transcript

Hi,

It's Stefania and we're back with part two of the Wind in the Willows.

If you remember from last time,

Rat and Mr.

Mole were having a kind of spontaneous picnic on the water.

Then Mr.

Mole spotted bubbles that seemed to be traveling along the surface of the water.

Who could it be?

It turned out to be Otter,

The otter.

Part two.

A broad glistening muzzle showed itself above the edge of the bank and the otter hauled himself out and shook the water from his coat.

Greedy beggars,

He observed,

Making for the preventer.

Why didn't you invite me,

Ratty?

This was an impromptu affair,

Explained the rat.

By the way,

My friend,

Mr.

Mole.

Proud,

I'm sure,

Said the otter and the two animals were friends forthwith.

Such a rumpus everywhere,

Continued the otter.

All the world seems out on the river today.

I came up this backwater to try and get a moment's peace and then stumble upon you fellows.

At least,

I beg my name.

I don't exactly mean that,

You know.

There was a vessel behind them,

Proceeding from a hedge where last year's leaves still clung thick.

And a stripy head with high shoulders behind it peered forth on them.

Come on,

Old badger,

Shouted the rat.

The badger trotted forth a pace or two,

Then grunted,

Err,

Company,

And turned his back and disappeared from view.

That's just the sort of fellow he is,

Observed the disappointed rat.

Simply hates society.

Now,

We shan't see any more of him today.

Well,

Tell us,

Who's out on the river?

Toad's out for one,

Replied the otter,

In his brand new wager boat.

New dogs,

New everything.

The two animals looked at each other and laughed.

Oh,

It was nothing but sailing,

Said the rat.

Then he tired of that and took to punting.

Nothing would please him but to punt all day and every day and a nice messy mate of it.

Last year,

It was houseboating,

And we all had to go and stay with him in his houseboat and pretend we liked it.

He was going to spend the rest of his life in a houseboat.

It's all the same.

Whenever he takes up,

He gets tired of it and starts on something fresh.

Such a good fellow,

Too,

Remarked the otter reflectively,

But no stability,

Especially in a boat.

From where they sat,

They could get a glimpse of the mainstream across the island that separated them.

And just then,

A wager boat flashed into view.

The rower,

A short,

Stout figure,

Splashing badly and rolling a good deal,

But working his hardest.

The rat stood up and held him,

But Toad,

For it was he,

Shook his head and settled stonely to his work.

He'll be out of the boat in a minute if he rolls like that,

Said the rat,

Sitting down again.

Of course he will,

Chuckled the otter.

Did I ever tell you that good story about Toad and the lock keeper?

It happened this way.

Toad,

An errant mayfly,

Swerved unsteadily outward the current in the intoxicated fashion affected by the young bloods of mayflies seeing life.

A swirl of water and a clop,

And the mayfly was visible no more.

Neither was the otter.

The mole looked down.

The voice was still in his ears,

But the turf whereupon he had sprawled was clearly vacant,

Not an otter to be seen as far as the distant horizon.

But again,

There was a streak of bubbles on the surface of the water.

The rat hummed a tune,

And the mole recollected that animal etiquette forbade any sort of comment on the sudden disappearance of one's friends at any moment,

For any reason or no reason whatsoever.

Well,

Well,

Said the rat,

I suppose we ought to be moving.

I wonder which of us had better packed the luncheon basket.

He did not speak as if he was frightfully eager for the treat.

Oh,

Please let me,

Said the mole.

So,

Of course,

The rat listened.

Packing the basket was not quite such pleasant work as unpacking the basket.

It never is.

But the mole was bent on enjoying everything,

And although just when he had got the basket packed and strapped up tightly,

He saw a plate staring up at him from the grass.

And when the job had been done again,

The rat pointed out a fork,

Which anybody ought to have seen.

And last of all,

Behold,

The mustard pot which he had been sitting on without knowing it.

Still,

Somehow,

The thing got finished at last,

Without a loss of temper.

The afternoon sun was getting low as the rat sculled gently homewards in a dreamy mood,

Murmuring poetry things over to himself,

And not paying much attention to mole.

But the mole was very full of lunch,

And self-satisfaction,

And pride,

And already quite at home in a boat,

So he thought,

And was getting a bit restless besides.

And presently he said,

Ratty,

Please,

I want to roll,

Now.

The rat shook his head with a smile.

Not yet,

My young friend,

He said.

Wait till you've had a few lessons.

It's not as easy as it looks.

The mole was quiet for a minute or two,

But he began to feel more and more jealous of rat,

Sculling so strongly and so easily along.

And his pride began to whisper that he could do it every bit as well.

He jumped up and seized the skull so suddenly that rat,

Who was gazing out over the water and saying more poetry things to himself,

Was taken by surprise and fell backwards off his seat with his legs in the air for the second time,

While the triumphant mole took his place and grabbed the skulls with entire confidence.

Stop it,

You silly,

Stop it,

Cried the rat from the bottom of the boat.

You can't do it.

You'll have us over.

The mole flung his skulls back with a flourish and made a great dig at the water.

He missed the surface altogether.

His legs flew up above his head and he found himself lying on the top of the prostrate rat.

Greatly alarmed,

He made a grab at the side of the boat and the next moment,

Swoosh,

Over went the boat.

And he found himself struggling in the river.

Oh my,

How cold the water was and oh,

How very wet it felt.

How it sang in his ears as he went down,

Down,

Down.

How bright and welcome the sun looked as he rose to the surface,

Coughing and spluttering.

How black was his despair when he felt himself sinking again.

Then a firm pog ripped him up by back of his neck.

It was rat and he was evidently laughing.

The mole could feel him laughing.

Right down his arm and through his paw and so into his,

The mole's,

Neck.

The rat got a skull and shoved it under the mole's arm.

Then he did the same by the other side of him and swimming behind,

Propelled the helpless animal to shore,

Hauled him out and set him down on the bank.

A squashy,

Pulpy lump of misery.

When the rat had rubbed him down a bit and wrung some of the wet out of him,

He said,

Now then old fellow,

Trot up and down the towing path as hard as you can till you're warm and dry again while I dive for the luncheon basket.

So the dismal mole,

Wet without and ashamed within,

Trotted about till he was fairly dry while the rat plunged into the water again,

Recovered the boat,

Righted her and made her fast,

Fetched his floating property to shore by degrees and finally dived successfully for the luncheon basket and struggled to land with it.

When all was ready for a start once more,

The mole,

Limp and rejected,

Took his seat in the stern of the boat and as they set off,

He said in a low voice,

Broken with emotion,

Ratty,

My generous friend,

I am very sorry indeed for my foolish and ungrateful conduct.

My heart quite fails me when I think how I might have lost that beautiful luncheon basket.

Indeed,

I've been a complete fool and I know it.

Will you overlook it this once and forgive me and let things go on as before?

That's all right.

That's all right,

Bless you,

Responded the rat cheerily.

What's a little wet to a water rat?

I'm more in the water than out of it most days.

Don't you think any more of it?

And look here,

I really think you had better come up and stop with me for a little while.

It's very plain and rough,

You know,

Not like Toad's house at all.

But you haven't seen that yet.

Still,

I can make you comfortable and I'll teach you to row and to swim and you'll soon be as handy on the water as any of us.

The mole was so touched by his kind manner of speaking that he could find no voice to answer him and he had to brush away a tear or two with the back of his paw.

But the rat kindly looked in another direction and presently the mole's spirits revived again and he was even able to give some straight back talk to a couple of moorhens who were snickering to each other about his bedraggled appearance.

When they got home,

The rat made a bright fire in the parlor and planted the mole in an armchair in front of it,

Having fetched down a dressing gown and slippers for him and told him river stories till suppertime.

Very thrilling stories they were,

Too,

To an earth-dwelling animal like mole.

Stories about weirs and sudden floods and leaping pike and steamers that flung hard bottles.

At least,

Bottles were certainly flung and from steamers,

So presumably by them.

And about herons and how particular they were whom they spoke to.

And about adventures down drains and night fishings with otter or excursions far afield with badger.

Supper was a most cheerful meal but very shortly afterwards a terribly sleepy mole had to be escorted upstairs by his considerate host to the best bedroom where he soon laid his head on his pillow in great peace and contentment,

Knowing that his new-found friend the river was lapping the seal of his window.

This day was only the first of many similar ones for the emancipated mole,

Each of them longer and full of interest as the ripening summer moved onward.

He learned to swim and to row and entered into the joy of running water and with his ear to the reed stems he caught at intervals something of what the wind went whispering so constantly among them.

And that's it for today's chapter of The Wind in the Willows.

We'll be back soon with the next chapter,

The Open Road.

For now,

Be good,

Stay happy,

And sleep well.

Bye-bye.