'Hold up!' said an elderly rabbit at the gap. 'Sixpence for the
privilege of passing by the private road!' He was bowled over in an
instant by the impatient and contemptuous Mole, who trotted along the
side of the hedge chaffing the other rabbits as they peeped hurriedly
from their holes to see what the row was about. 'Onion-sauce!
Onion-sauce!' he remarked jeeringly, and was gone before they could
think of a thoroughly satisfactory reply. Then they all started
grumbling at each other. 'How STUPID you are! Why didn't you tell
him----' 'Well, why didn't YOU say----' 'You might have reminded him
----' and so on, in the usual way; but, of course, it was then much too
late, as is always the case.

It all seemed too good to be true. Hither and thither through the
meadows he rambled busily, along the hedgerows, across the copses,
finding everywhere birds building, flowers budding, leaves thrusting--
everything happy, and progressive, and occupied. And instead of
having an uneasy conscience pricking him and whispering 'whitewash!'
he somehow could only feel how jolly it was to be the only idle dog
among all these busy citizens. After all, the best part of a holiday
is perhaps not so much to be resting yourself, as to see all the other
fellows busy working.

He thought his happiness was complete when, as he meandered aimlessly
along, suddenly he stood by the edge of a full-fed river. Never in
his life had he seen a river before--this sleek, sinuous, full-bodied
animal, chasing and chuckling, gripping things with a gurgle and
leaving them with a laugh, to fling itself on fresh playmates that
shook themselves free, and were caught and held again. All was
a-shake and a-shiver--glints and gleams and sparkles, rustle and
swirl, chatter and bubble. The Mole was bewitched, entranced,