ing. Nothing would please him but to punt all day and every day, and a nice mess he made of it. Last year it was house—boating, and we all had to go and stay with him in his house—boat, and pretend we liked it. He was going to spend the rest of his life in a house—boat. It's all the same, whatever 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 main stream 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 hailed him, but Toad—for it was he—shook his head and settled sternly 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 May-fly swerved unsteadily
